and i will sing this magic (into the world)
by images-in-words
Summary: This girl was like a hurricane blowing into her life, and Quinn felt she might as well go with the wind rather than try to fight it. (AU)
1. Chapter 1

**and I will sing this magic (into the world)**

There were many intimidating things about relocating from relatively small-town Ohio to New York City, but the most intimidating to the young blonde woman sitting on the train and trying to remember if this was her stop, or if it was the next one, was definitely the subway system. So vast, so complex, and so confusing, with all its letters and numbers and color-coded symbols, she felt lost, as though the underground labyrinth of tunnels were caverns of evil, and the trains were dragons seeking to swallow up unsuspecting travelers, never to be seen again. She had been told just to keep count of the stops as the train rumbled along, but it was way too easy for her to be distracted by the myriad of different voices and accents and unique appearances of the riders all around her, and she found herself constantly trying to remember if that last stop was the fourth or the fifth, and whether her stop was the ninth or the tenth.

The armored dragon rumbled to a stop, its maw opening to swallow up new victims and spit out those it had already digested, and Quinn shook her head as she made the spontaneous, split-second decision to get off the train. By the time she realized a few moments later that this was not where she wanted to get off, it was too late – the metal jaws were shut and the dragon was slithering off on its belly to its next destination, and Quinn cursed softly to herself. Looking around the station, she saw that it was one of the cleaner, more well-kept ones, and when she noticed the stairs leading to the upper level, she decided to take them in the hope that she might be able to get some signal on her phone, maybe use her subway app to figure out where she'd gone wrong, or more likely, call Santana to rescue her yet again.

Sighing in frustration, she trudged up the steps, feeling as though each and every one of the people sprinting down or pushing up past her somehow knew she'd messed up once more. Her cheeks heated with anger and embarrassment at being silently judged by all these people she didn't know, who didn't know her, and being found lacking.

Finally, Quinn reached the top of the stairs, and as she walked forward, she was caught by the sight of a small crowd gathered in the open area between the stairs and the turnstiles, applauding a young woman standing behind a microphone on a stand, with a portable stereo set up next to her. The woman was petite – barely over five feet tall, if that – but she stood there with a quiet confidence that made her seem much larger, somehow. A white beret was perched atop a head of long, lustrous dark hair, set off by a pair of large, deep brown eyes and olive skin. As Quinn studied the girl's face, she thought her nose was maybe a tad on the big side, but not unattractively so; in fact, the more she looked, the more she was struck by the girl's exotic beauty. And while she appreciated the girl's ridiculously short skirt, the quirky sweater with a giant owl's face on it made her shake her head in disbelief. But when the girl smiled, showing two rows of perfectly straight, white teeth between her plump lips, it was so bright that Quinn found herself smiling too, her current predicament forgotten in the moment.

As the applause began to die down, the girl cleared her throat and spoke in a voice that sounded like music itself to Quinn's ears.

"Thank you, everyone. Thank you. As I mentioned earlier, my name is Rachel Berry, and I'm a musical theater major at NYADA, the campus of which is not too far away from here. And while I do have a full scholarship, I'm still a poor college student, so yes –I'm almost literally singing for my supper today."

Quinn chuckled along with several others in the crowd, rolling her eyes at this Rachel girl's earnestness. Yet she saw that there were more than a few dollars stuffed into a jar at the singer's feet, and had to admit she was intrigued. So she figured it couldn't hurt anything to stay where she was for a few minutes and hear what kind of performer Rachel Berry was.

Forty-five minutes later, Quinn's jaw was still on the floor and the jar was nearly full of bills. How on earth could such a tiny person sing with such power, such passion, such control? She was sure she'd never heard anything like Rachel's voice in all her life, and as soon as the girl had finished her set of Broadway classics and pop tunes, all Quinn could think was that she wanted her to start all over again.

Then her phone buzzed, and Quinn was forced to stop staring at Rachel long enough to read the text message she'd just gotten...along with the ten others that she'd ignored.

All of which were from Santana. _Yup. She's going to kill me._

Just as Quinn expected, her roommate's messages quickly escalated from a simple inquiry as to whether Quinn would be back at their place soon so they could _get their pizza on_, to a rage-filled threat to slowly eviscerate her upon her return – whenever that would be - if she didn't answer her messages _like, sooner than NOW, bitch!_

Rachel had just finished thanking a slightly overenthusiastic older gentleman in a business suit who had dropped a fifty dollar bill into the jar, proclaiming that her version of _Send in the Clowns _was the best he had ever heard, when she saw the tall, pale blonde staring at her phone with a look of distress on her lovely face. Hurriedly, she removed the bills from the jar and stuffed them in her purse.

"Damn it!" Quinn exclaimed. Her subway app revealed that not only had she gotten off at the wrong stop, she had actually been on the wrong train altogether. "How am I going to get home when I don't even know where the hell I _am_?!"

Straightening out her sweater and smoothing down her skirt, Rachel schooled her features into her best expression of kind concern and walked over to the distraught blonde. If this girl needed help, then of course Rachel was going to help her in any way she possibly could.

Gently tapping the clearly unhappy girl on the shoulder, she said, "Excuse me, miss. I couldn't help but see your look of fear and distress - not to mention overhear your outburst a moment ago - and I would be happy to offer you my assistance, whatever you require."

Quinn jumped a little, startled by the tap and the singer's sudden appearance. "What? Oh, um – no, no, I'm fine, really."

Rachel smiled kindly, as she might at a child who had just dropped his ice cream cone on the sidewalk. "It certainly didn't sound that way to me. Something about needing to get home and not knowing where you are? Let me guess – you're new to the city. Correct?"

Quinn blushed, internally cursing her fair skin for betraying her, not for the first time. Sticking her phone back in her purse, Quinn replied, "Um, no – maybe. Yes. Okay, yes, yes, I am. It's these damned subways! I haven't quite gotten the hang of them yet. My roommate has been waiting to have dinner, and I've been keeping her waiting all this time, and now she's going to kill me when I get back – if I ever manage to _get_ back -"

Rachel cut her off. "Say no more. I had the same problem when I came here, but now I'm a certified, bona fide expert in the ways and workings of this great city's public transportation system. Where do you live?"

Taken aback by Rachel's boldness, Quinn said, "Really? I literally _just _met you, and you think I'm actually going to give you my address? What, you think I've never seen a serial killer movie before?"

"I assure you," Rachel huffed in mock indignation, "that I am not a serial killer, and that I have no nefarious intentions or malevolent motivations here. I simply saw that you needed assistance, and offered such in good faith. And besides, _you're _the stranger here – after all, you know _my _name, but I don't know _yours, _Miss...?"

"Fabray. Quinn Fabray."

Rachel beamed that blinding thousand-watt smile and clapped in delight. "Wonderful to make your acquaintance, Quinn! Now come with me. I'll just need a minute or two to gather the rest of my things, and then I'm going to get you home."

Before she could reply, Quinn found herself being dragged by the hand over to where Rachel's microphone, microphone stand, amplifier and portable stereo were still set up.

Still unsure, but feeling that Rachel was someone she could trust, Quinn nevertheless felt compelled to to ask, "Wait, what? You're going to get me home? Why – why would you do that?"

At this, Rachel stopped what she was doing and turned to Quinn with a puzzled look on her face, as though Quinn had just said the most ridiculous thing ever.

"Why _wouldn't_ I? We're friends now, and this is what friends do for each other. What other reason could I possibly need? Here, help me get the amplifier onto the hand truck. It's a little heavy, and it needs to be perfectly balanced before I get it secured with the bungee cord."

Quinn shrugged helplessly and did as she was told, bending down to help Rachel lift the small amplifier onto the little hand truck because really, what else could she do? This girl was like a hurricane blowing into her life, and Quinn felt she might as well go with the wind rather than try to fight it.

* * *

**A/N: So there are a couple of different ways I'm thinking of going with this one, and I'm kind of undecided about it right now - I can either keep it simple and focused on Quinn and Rachel without including too many other characters, or I can expand the focus a little and introduce several other favorite characters in perhaps unexpected roles. What would you, the readers, prefer to see? Share your thoughts in a review or a PM and let me know. Thanks!  
**


	2. Chapter 2

**and i will sing this magic (into the world)**

**chapter two**

The hand truck carrying Rachel's amplifier thumped down the stairs behind her while Quinn carried the large duffel bag containing the money jar, the microphone and disassembled microphone stand in one hand and Rachel's portable stereo in the other. Quinn wondered how in the world Rachel had carried all this here by herself in the first place, then figured she must have had help from someone else, because there was no way the tiny singer could have juggled all this stuff on her own.

With a final, resounding _thump, _the hand truck landed on the subway platform, and Rachel pulled her iPhone seemingly from out of nowhere. She wore a look of determination as she scrolled through her contact list and tapped a name and number that Quinn was unable to read as she looked over Rachel's shoulder.

"Brittany? Hi. Yes, I'm done for the day, and I must say, things went well – even better than I expected. However, I may be home a little later than usual, as I've discovered I have an important errand to run on the way. What?" Rachel closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose, as though she had suddenly acquired a pounding headache, then sighed before continuing. "Lord Tubbington stole the TV remote and won't give it back until he's finished watching the _Garfield_ movie, _again?_ I swear, I'm going to throw that DVD in the trash – no, Brittany, I _know _he loves that movie, but honestly! - you'll just have to explain to him that we humans have entertainment needs too. I'm sorry, but you really must put your foot down at this point. Yes, I know he might be mad for a little while, but he'll understand eventually, I promise. Okay? All right. I'll see you soon. Bye!"

Quinn looked at Rachel with an arched eyebrow and a puzzled expression. "What was _that_ all about? Who's Lord Tubbington, and why does he have what sounds like an unhealthy obsession with _Garfield_?"

Rachel giggled and motioned for Quinn to walk beside her a little ways down the platform. "Brittany is my best friend and roommate. We went to high school together. She goes to NYADA too, for dance, and she's an amazing person in addition to being a tremendously gifted dancer. I can't wait for you to meet her! You'll love her – everybody does."

"Okay, that's good to know, but it doesn't answer my actual question - which is, again, _who_ is Lord Tubbington, and what is his deal with _Garfield_?"

"I'm sorry, you're right. I should explain. Lord Tubbington is Brittany's cat. She's had him all her life, and they have a very...um, _unusual_ relationship. She says they're psychically linked, and understand each other on a deeper emotional level than normal humans can comprehend."

Quinn blinked a few times, trying to process this information. She felt her mouth open and close, yet she found herself momentarily unable to form a response. Rachel's eyes watched her intently, a look concern forming within their deep brown depths, as though she was wondering if Quinn was about to faint or have a seizure and if so, what the proper medical response would be in such a situation.

Finally, Quinn's brain sent the necessary signals to her mouth, and she said, "Um. Okay. I've known people who are very...um, _close _to their pets, but..._that_ \- that's just..."

"Just Brittany," Rachel finished for her, beaming. "You'll understand once you meet her."

"Yes, well – I would _love_ to meet her sometime, I really would, but _I_ have a roommate, too, and she's been waiting for me to get home for _way_ too long and right now she's probably thinking of _at least_ fifty different ways to end me and make sure my body is never found, so..."

Rachel's smile faltered, and Quinn heard just the tiniest note of disappointment in her voice as she said, "Oh! Yes, of course. I _did _say I was going to get you home, didn't I? Now, where do you live?"

Quinn felt a pang of guilt at making Rachel feel bad, even for a moment, so she decided to try to put the smile back on her face - realizing as she did that she really liked that smile - by joking, "You promise this isn't for stalking purposes, right?"

The laughter she received in response dispelled Quinn's momentary feeling of guilt instantly, and put a smile on her own face.

"Yes, Quinn, I promise. My GPS is only ever used for good, never for evil."

"Okay, then," Quinn laughed, and she gave Rachel her address between giggles as she took in the look of supreme seriousness the girl wore as she prepared to enter the information into her GPS program as though she were about to program coordinates into the starship _Enterprise_'s navigational system.

Suddenly Rachel's head whipped up as though she had just been pinched, and the smile that spread across her face was the largest and brightest Quinn had seen yet.

"_Really_? What an incredible coincidence – it just so happens that your place isn't very far away from mine. Oh, Quinn – this might sound terrible, and please accept my apologies in advance for any offense you might take – but I'm _so_ glad you have no clue about the subway. Otherwise, we would never have met, and our lives would have been so tremendously diminished, although of course we wouldn't even have known it!"

Rachel clapped in delight and did a happy little dance, and Quinn couldn't help but watch her with a bemused grin. She had never really been much of a believer in fate or destiny or whatever, but when the tiny, excited girl launched herself into her arms to wrap her in a tight, warm hug, she couldn't help but think that maybe she'd been meant to get off at this stop after all.

Suddenly a rumble of sound announced their train's arrival, and Quinn reluctantly removed her arms from around Rachel's lithe little body, stepping away to put a little space between them, but smiling at the girl as she did so.

The dragon's jaws opened, and this time, Quinn felt no fear at stepping into them, because Rachel's small but strong hand had placed itself in hers, pulling her along as she said, "Come on, Quinn. Let's get you home."

They plopped down heavily into their seats, and Rachel let out a sigh of relief at finally being off her feet after standing in the station for so long, closing her eyes in contentment. Quinn couldn't keep herself from giggling at the blissful look on the girl's face, especially when one eye popped open to look at her as if to say, _What?_

"It's been a long day, hasn't it?" Quinn said, not quite managing to keep the mirth from her voice after that one eye closed again.

"Mmm, it has. We can't get _too_ comfortable here, though. We'll be at our stop before we know it." Both of Rachel's eyes opened then, and the soft, almost shy smile on her face made Quinn's breath catch a little in her throat. "However, we have enough time to start getting to know each other a little better, so I suggest we play a game of '20 Questions.'"

Coughing a little and ducking her head in an effort to hide her blush at the way Rachel was looking at her with those wide, sparkling eyes, Quinn replied, "All right – but I warn you, I'm probably not as interesting as all your NYADA friends."

"I'll be the judge of that. So, let's begin. First question: where are you from?"

Rachel, always observant, caught the flash of memory and emotion playing across Quinn's face as the girl absently toyed with the hem of her shirt for a moment. There was anger there, and pain, and sadness too, but it was all gone in a second, and then her face was smooth and blank, an expressionless, beautiful mask, as she answered quietly.

"Lima, Ohio. A small town populated mostly by small people with small lives and smaller minds. Most of us grow up there dreaming of getting out, escaping, but not many actually manage it. I'm one of the fortunate ones, obviously. My mom has lived there her whole life, but that wasn't what she wanted for me." She paused, released a breath in a long, slow exhalation. "So after my dad left us, she pushed me to work really hard to be able to go to school as far away from Lima as possible. I graduated at the top of my class, decided that New York was as out of my comfort zone as it was possible to be, got a full scholarship to Columbia, and so...here I am."

Sensing Quinn's discomfort as the metallic dragon flew low above the ground on its silent, metallic wings for a few moments more before stopping for the first time on their journey, Rachel smiled brightly and said, "I'm a small town girl too. I grew up across the river in New Jersey, and being so close to the city, it was inevitable that I would feel its magnetic pull. I was drawn to Broadway immediately after my fathers took me to see my very first show there, although they say that I was singing before I could talk – a theory I find highly improbable, albeit quite flattering."

Quinn's eyes widened at that. All the tension she'd been feeling suddenly left her shoulders, and she laughed heartily at the thought of a singing baby Rachel, belting out show tunes in her crib. Then she was struck by something else that Rachel had just said.

"Fathers? As in, plural?"

The train started moving again, forcing Rachel to speak a little louder than she would have liked. "Ah, yes. That's everyone's next question. Yes, _plural_. As in the two gay dads who paid a surrogate to carry me for nine months, then give me to them mere moments after I was born, and who have loved me and cared for me and given me everything I've ever wanted my entire life. Is that...a _problem_ for you?"

Quinn raised her hands in a placating gesture at the sight of Rachel's eyes narrowing at her, daring her to say the wrong thing.

"What? No! No, not at all. It's not like we don't have gay people in Lima. They're just not as...conspicuous there as they are here. Remember, small town, small lives, small minds? It's not as easy for people to be different in that environment." She swallowed, looked down at her hands as Rachel's expression softened. She hadn't exactly planned to reveal so much of herself, so quickly; but Rachel seemed to have an uncanny ability to draw her out, to make her say things she would ordinarily never say to someone she had just met, and so she found herself making a confession here, in the belly of this underground beast. "That's actually - it's one of the reasons I wanted to leave so much."

"Quinn. Look at me. I know we've just barely begun to know each other, really, but the one thing you have to learn above all else is that you're safe with me. Everything you say, everything you tell me – none of it will _ever_ be used to judge you, or to harm you, or make you feel badly in any way, shape or form. Please believe me, Quinn. I am your friend, and I will _never_, ever hurt you."

Soft, small fingers intertwined with long, pale ones in the space between their bodies. Quinn closed her eyes, reveled in the feeling of Rachel's skin on hers. The nerves that had suddenly threatened to undo her completely began to calm under Rachel's caring, compassionate gaze. Trust was not a thing that came easily to Quinn, but she meant it as much as she'd ever meant anything in her life when she squeezed Rachel's hand and said, "I believe you."

Rachel used the pad of her thumb to wipe away the single tear tracking its way down Quinn's pale, beautiful cheek, favoring her with a watery smile of her own. "Good," she said. "After all, we still have several stops to go, and I would hate for the rest of our ride to become awkward. Let's move this conversation to less..._fraught_ topics, shall we?"

Quinn cleared her throat, chuckled. "I think that's a great idea. Is it still my turn?"

"Nope," Rachel chirped airily, as though none of the heaviness of the last few minutes had happened at all. "You used yours when you asked about my dads."

"That was less a question than a reaction, really."

"Perhaps, but it was phrased as a question. The ruling stands."

Quinn tried to pout, but couldn't resist the smile that threatened to break across her face at Rachel's satisfied grin. Helplessly, she allowed it to bloom. "Fine. Ask away, then."

"Favorite food?"

"Bacon. Yours?"

Rachel considered. "Hmm...are we talking about breakfast food, lunch food, or dinner food?"

"You can't answer a question with a question."

"It's not question _or_ an answer; it's a request for clarification. So, which food are you asking about?"

"All three."

"I should consider that to be three separate questions, but in the interest of brevity – something for which I am _not_ known, honestly – I'll answer. My favorite breakfast food is the fluffy and delightful Belgian waffle; my favorite lunch food is the exquisite pairing of the grilled cheese sandwich and tomato soup; and my favorite dinner is pasta and sauce, as it has been since I was five years old."

"A woman of elevated tastes, I see," Quinn snickered. Honestly, she thought Rachel couldn't be more adorable if she tried.

"I'll have you know there's nothing wrong with enjoying comfort food. It takes me back to the simple days of my childhood."

They laughed and bantered like that for several more stops, until Rachel announced that theirs was next. It had been a long time since Quinn had hit it off like this with someone - in fact, she couldn't recall ever coming to feel so close to someone so quickly. Rachel made her feel so comfortable, so free; she was unlike anyone Quinn had ever met before, with her generous, open spirit and easy laughter. Even now, her eyes sparkled with light and life as she looked at Quinn, standing up and walking over to the doors opposite their seats, one hand held out for Quinn to take, the other dragging the hand truck behind her.

"Come on. We'll walk the rest of the way from here."

Quinn rose from her seat, hefting the duffel bag up with her. She reached down, watched Rachel's smaller hand somehow engulf her own, and thought fleetingly of Santana sitting at their little dining table, fuming and cursing in Spanish over her continued absence. Somehow, she didn't care how angry her roommate probably was anymore.

Rachel tugged at her hand, and together they walked from the train and out of the station, where the air of early autumn in New York was ready to take them into its cool embrace, whispering to them of all the things that might be.

Quinn held on to Rachel's hand and let her lead them through the maze of the city, not particularly paying attention to or caring about where they were going, content to listen to Rachel chattering away about all the sights and sounds and amazing things happening around them all at once. And all she knew in that moment was that in getting lost - absurdly, improbably - she had found something. She sucked in her breath, her brain reeling with the implications, all the possibilities, and hoped that for once, the universe would be kind and let her dream.


	3. Chapter 3

**and i will sing this magic (into the world)**

chapter three

The walk from the subway station passed like a dream, seeming to take hours, yet no time at all, as though the axis on which the world spun had slowed just for them. Rachel had somehow cast a spell when she'd taken Quinn's hand in her own, bending the temporal laws in order to make every moment they spent connected together seem larger, longer, every sight and sound and taste and feeling brighter and sharper and more intense than Quinn had ever imagined possible. Every aspect of everything around them had become heightened: colors more vivid, scents more intoxicating, the taste of the hot chocolate they'd bought at a little coffee shop along the way sweeter and more delicious, Rachel's full-throated laughter so joyful and musical it made Quinn's heart flutter in her chest. It was all so magical that Quinn found herself hoping they'd never get back to her place.

Suddenly they stopped in front of a building Quinn didn't recognize, and she looked at Rachel with a puzzled expression.

"Why are we stopping? Where are we?"

Rachel smiled at her, her eyes sparkling with mirth as the giggle she was trying to repress escaped anyway.

"This is my building, Quinn. I told you earlier that we were going to stop here first so that I could drop off all my things. Remember?"

Quinn did her best to assume an expression of nonchalance, not wanting to let Rachel know that no, she didn't remember, not at all. She'd probably been too busy imagining how it might feel to run her pale, slender fingers through Rachel's dark, luxuriously thick hair, or something like that, at the time.

"Um, yeah. Of course. I remember. Yeah." She squinted up at the tall gray building, hoping that Rachel couldn't see the blush on her face, which totally gave away the fact that she was lying. "This place is really big. Which floor are you on?"

Of course, Rachel knew that Quinn didn't remember what she'd said. Truthfully, Rachel herself couldn't remember half of what she'd said this evening; Quinn's deep hazel eyes were infuriatingly distracting.

"I'm on the ninth floor. Come on – I want you to meet Brittany!" Rachel exclaimed, tugging at Quinn's hand, pulling her forward, exerting that strange but powerful magnetic force on her body. She couldn't resisted if she'd tried, but she had no desire to resist. Wherever Rachel wanted to go was where she wanted to be.

Rachel hadn't originally intended to stop here, but she quickly realized it was impractical for them to carry all of her equipment all the way to Quinn's place, only for her to turn around and then lug it all back home by herself. Honestly, though, she didn't mind at all – anything to extend the evening and spend more time getting to know Quinn.

They quickly crossed the lobby, passing the security desk where Rachel waved at the large guard wearing a T-shirt and jacket emblazoned with the words "NYADA Security" stationed there with a bright, "Hi, Dave!"

"Hey, Rachel," replied the imposing man. His dark, close cropped hair and intense facial expression reminded Quinn of a football player she had known in high school, and she had to repress a shiver at the memory. "Wait a minute!" he called, waving at them to approach his station. "Come back here. You know you have to sign guests in at the desk before bringing them to your room."

Rachel noticed the tightening of Quinn's grasp on her hand and signaled with her eyes that everything was all right and there was no cause for alarm. Quinn nodded to acknowledge her receipt of that signal, and they walked back over to the security desk.

"Oh, we're not staying. Quinn and I met in the subway station where I was singing – she had gotten off at the wrong stop and I offered to help her get back home." She gestured down to the floor where all her things lay at Quinn's feet. "We're just dropping my things off here with Brittany, then I will be accompanying Quinn to make sure she gets home safely. It won't take long – you'll probably still be here when I return."

"Oh," Dave said, eyeing Quinn up and down. Whether he was checking her out or assessing the level of threat she represented, she couldn't tell; but whatever the case, the intensity of his eyes made her more than a little uncomfortable. She squeezed Rachel's hand to let her know that she would like to leave, _now._

"It was nice to meet you, Dave," Quinn lied politely, extending her other hand for him to shake, hoping he wouldn't.

"Nice to meet you too," the big man replied as he shook her hand with a grip that was firm but surprisingly gentle. A small smile turned the corners of his lips ever so slightly upwards. "It's always a pleasure to meet Rachel's friends. She has so many, it's hard for me to keep track of them sometimes."

Quinn exhaled and felt herself relax a little as she heard Rachel laugh at the big man's compliment. She was still wary, but if her new friend liked him, then she supposed she could too.

"You are just too charming, Dave," Rachel giggled. "How is it that nobody's snapped you up and taken you away from here yet?"

The guard's tough demeanor softened then, and Quinn was startled to see the merest hint of a blush on his broad face. Apparently Rachel's magical ability to make people let their walls down and be vulnerable, even for just a moment, worked on everyone.

"I just haven't met the right person yet," he mumbled bashfully. Rachel's compassionate, interested gaze encouraged him to elaborate, something Quinn sensed the man didn't do all that often. "I do have my eye on someone, though."

"That's wonderful, Dave!" Rachel exclaimed, and Quinn had no doubt that she was completely sincere in her happiness. "You'll have to tell me all about it sometime. But for now, we need to get upstairs to Brittany and then get my fair lady Quinn home to her own roommate, who is, I'm sure, quite concerned for her well-being."

_Oh, God. Santana. I still haven't called or texted her. _

Quinn imagined the girl was probably at the police station at this very moment, yelling at them to file a missing persons report _right this second_ and threatening to go all Lima Heights on their blue-uniformed candy asses.

She needed to get upstairs and on her phone. Rachel turned to look at her, as though she'd sensed her mounting anxiety instantly, and with a short, but pleasant apology to Dave after he nodded his assent for them to leave, pulled Quinn toward her again, and before she knew it, they were in the elevator and headed to Rachel's room.


	4. Chapter 4

**and i will sing this magic (into the world)**

**chapter four**

The elevator was kind of small and cramped, but Quinn didn't mind all that much, because it brought Rachel closer to her side. Their hands were still connected, fingers interlaced, and the warmth it created traveled from her palm and up her arm, finally settling in her chest. Rachel softly hummed a tune that Quinn didn't recognize as she watched the numbers change on the display above the elevator door. It didn't matter that she couldn't place the song; even at this soft volume, the girl's voice was a marvel, pure and clear and sweet.

Looking at her phone, Quinn saw that she wasn't getting enough signal in the elevator to call or text Santana, but she could see that her roommate had sent her several more angry, bewildered messages since the last time she'd checked. Sighing, she knew that she'd have to call Santana practically as soon as they got through the door of Rachel's place.

She was not looking forward to that conversation at all.

"Quinn," Rachel's voice said, tearing her away from thoughts of Santana screaming at her in that furious mix of English and Spanish that she privately called 'San-speak.' "I suppose I should warn you that Brittany is rather...excitable." Rachel paused, smiling as she described her roommate. "She's kind of like a puppy when she meets a new person, all curiosity and eager affection. The first thing she will want to do is hug you. Please, I advise you – _let her._ If you try to resist, she'll just hold on tighter, and you don't really want that. Brittany is very, very strong. She could hurt you without even realizing it, and I would much rather get you home than have to take you to the emergency room."

Quinn blinked as she took in this information. She had never been much of a hugger (although the idea of Rachel embracing her brought the corners of her mouth up in the beginnings of a grin), but the very serious look on Rachel's face compelled her to nod in understanding.

"Let her hug me. Noted. Anything else I should know?"

"She's a dancer, so she's...very comfortable with her body, to put it delicately. I'm used to her walking around without a lot of clothes on, but I have to warn you now – she might only be in her underwear when we walk in. If she is, don't acknowledge it. Just smile and let her hug you and then act as you normally would upon meeting a new person."

Quinn blinked again, shook her head. She chuckled and said, "Um, okay. Sure. No problem. Because I meet people in their underwear all the time."

Rachel's laugh surprised her as the bell rang to announce that they had finally arrived on the right floor.

"You do? Where do you hang out, and can you take me there sometime?"

Quinn's knees might have buckled at the smile Rachel gave her, had it not been for all the things she was required to transport.

Rachel's laughter echoed the whole way down the hall, quieting only when they reached her door at last, and though Quinn tried to be miffed at the girl, she found herself laughing too.

"Okay," Rachel said, clearing her throat and trying to take on a serious expression once again. "Remember: if Brittany wants to hug you -"

"Let her. Yes, I know. And also, she may not be completely dressed."

"Right." Rachel covered her mouth to stifle another round of giggles. "Well, here goes." She fished her keys out of her purse with a small "ah," and unlocked the door.

"Britt! I'm back! And I have someone I want you to meet – are you decent?"

"I'm more than decent, Rachel – I'm smoking hot," said a cheerful voice from somewhere in the recesses of the apartment-style dorm.

Rachel laughed. "Yes, yes, you are, Brittany. But no, I meant, are you wearing pants?"

"Um – should I be?"

"Yes. I think that would be best. Please come out and meet my new friend Quinn when you're ready." Rachel shook her head as she looked at Quinn with an apologetic shrug that said, _What can I do? _

Quinn silently thanked her lucky stars that they had not walked in on a nearly naked roommate after all. She took off her jacket to make herself more comfortable.

"The girl from the subway? OMG! I'll be right there!"

Moments later, a tall, long-limbed girl with bright blonde hair and even brighter blue eyes – the bluest Quinn had ever seen – bounded into the living area in a pink NYADA hooded sweatshirt and matching sweatpants. She fixed Quinn with a quizzical stare and crossed the room with astonishing quickness to stand right in front of her.

"Hi! I'm Brittany. It's really nice to meet you," she exclaimed, and what Rachel had said was true: she reminded Quinn of nothing so much as an eager little puppy hoping for a scratch behind the ears and maybe a thrown stick to retrieve.

"Very nice to – _whoof!"_

Quinn felt the air leave her lungs all at once as Brittany wrapped her up in a rib-crushing embrace that was strangely gentle in spite of the girl's remarkable strength.

_Don't resist, _Rachel had advised. Well, how could she resist when she couldn't even draw a breath into her lungs?

And then, just as suddenly as Brittany had hugged her, she was set free. Gasping and watery eyed, but free.

"Did I hug too hard again? I'm sorry. Rachel's always telling me that I need to ease up, but I just can't help myself."

"No, no, it's okay. I'll live," Quinn quickly replied, seeing the sad look on Brittany's face, complete with a pouting, quivering bottom lip and at that moment she realized, as everyone inevitably does, that it would never, ever be acceptable to make this sweet, vivacious girl sad, even for a moment.

Rachel spoke up to distract Brittany from her momentary sadness. "Come on, Britt. Help me put my stuff away. Quinn needs to call her roommate and let her know that she's okay."

Just like that, Brittany's sad face disappeared, and her features instantly reverted back to bright and cheery. The stick had been thrown; she was compelled to chase it.

"We'll be back in a minute, Quinn," Rachel said, and Brittany somehow scooped all of the equipment they'd brought back from the subway station into her arms as though it weighed nothing before disappearing into what Quinn assumed was their bedroom.

Feeling strangely at a loss now that she was alone for the moment, Quinn turned her attention to her phone. She was just about to press Santana's contact to call her when "Valerie" blared out into the sudden silence.

_Oh, boy. Here we go._

As expected, Santana's voice was loud and raspy, like the furious buzz of a wasp's nest after it's been poked with a branch, and it exploded out of the phone and into the room.

"Do you have _any _idea how worried I've been, Q? _Do you?_ No, _of course _you don't, because if you did, you would have called or texted me _forever _ago! Fuck, Quinn, how inconsiderate can you be? Here I am, sitting here by myself, trying to figure out where my young, blonde, fairly hot but incredibly directionally-challenged roommate could possibly be in this tiny, tiny city of oh, _eight_ _million fucking people, _and not once do I get a simple, _Hey, I'm okay, don't worry _message, let alone a fucking phone call to let me know what the hell is going on! I was about to get a search party together with Blaine and Sugar and go out looking for you, for crissakes!"

Quinn cringed. "Look, Santana, I'm sorry, okay? I'm really, really sorry. I tried to count the stops like you said, but I didn't count right or got distracted or whatever, and then I got off at the wrong stop and I didn't know what to do, but then I met Rachel and -"

"Rachel? Who the fuck is Rachel, and what does she have to do with any of this?"

"She's – she's someone I met when I got off the train, in the station. She was singing and people were giving her money and she was just _incredible_, she has the most _amazing_ voice, and -"

Santana's voice softened. She realized that her roommate must have been frightened by what had happened, and yelling at her wasn't going to help her right now. She could – she _would -_ yell at her more later, after she came home. "Q, hey, hey, wait a minute – slow down. Don't start hyperventilating or anything. Just tell me what happened, okay?"

Sniffling now, hating the tears that had welled up in her eyes when Santana had ranted at her, Quinn collapsed onto the small couch.

"Start again. You met this Rachel person in the subway? And she was...she was _singing?_"

"Yes. She was singing inside the subway station. I followed her voice and saw there was a crowd of people watching her, listening to her, and they were giving her money. One guy even gave her a fifty-dollar bill after she sang some show tune he really liked."

Santana whistled. "Well, damn. That's impressive. So then what happened?"

"I stopped to watch her too, and then she ended her set and I was trying to figure out where I was and how to get back with the GPS program on this stupid phone when Rachel came up to me and offered to help me get home. She could tell that I was upset and angry, and she said she just couldn't leave me there like that."

"Huh. The last good Samaritan in this city, and you have the good luck to meet her. Is she cute?"

Quinn frowned. Of course that would be Santana's next question. The girl was perpetually on the prowl. Rachel was _hers, _and Santana would just have to find her own – _wait, what? _No, no, Rachel wasn't hers, that was ridiculous. She didn't belong to anyone but herself, they had just met – how could she even _think -?_

"Helloooo? Earth to Quinn! Still with me, Q? I'm gonna take your silence as a _yes._"

Quinn sighed, embarrassed. "She's beautiful, Santana. The most beautiful girl I've ever seen. But she's a lot more than that."

Suddenly there were footsteps, and Rachel and Brittany were standing on either side of the couch.

"Quinn? I don't mean to rush you or anything, but if you'd like to get home tonight, we need to leave now." Rachel's tone was gentle, yet urgent. "Otherwise, we would be more than happy to let you stay here for the night, and then we'll get you home tomorrow."

"And I'm totally going with you!" Brittany interjected, and her ear-to-ear grin warmed Quinn's heart. "This is going to be so much fun!"

Santana's ears perked up at the sound of that second voice. It was bubbly and musical and completely intriguing. "Who's that, Q?"

"Oh, that was Brittany. Rachel's roommate."

"Is that your roommate on the phone?" asked Brittany. "Can I say hello? Hi, roommate!" She waved as though Santana could see her, all happy smile and barely contained energy.

Santana laughed. Who in the world was this chick, and what planet did she come from?

"Tell her I said 'hi' back, Q."

Quinn rolled her eyes, but did as she was instructed. "Santana says 'hi' back."

Brittany beamed and Rachel giggled. Quinn just rolled her eyes again, earning a playful slap on the arm from Rachel, who then pointed at her watch meaningfully.

"Okay, Santana. I'm gonna go now. See you soon."

"I'll warm up dinner _again. _Just text me when you're close by, all right? And don't ever make me worry like this again, or I _will _kick your ass, got it?"

"Got it. Love you."

"I love you too, Fabray. Now get your ass home already!"

Sighing as she rose from the couch, Quinn took her jacket from Rachel's outstretched hand and pocketed her phone.

"Shall we?"

Rachel and Brittany each looped their arms through Quinn's. Brittany bounced on the balls of her feet, eager for the night's adventure. Rachel smiled that dazzling, heart-stopping smile, and something flipped inside Quinn's stomach. It could have been hunger – she hadn't eaten a proper meal since breakfast - but she knew otherwise.

"We shall."

A few minutes later, they were out the door and on the street once more.


	5. Chapter 5

**and I will sing this magic (into the world)**

**chapter five **

Quinn had thought Rachel was the liveliest, most energetic person she had ever met. Brittany, however, raised the bar to an entirely new level. She was also the quirkiest, loopiest, most unique person Quinn had ever met, and it had never occurred to her until now that she needed people like these two in her life. Santana was her best friend (and yes, she was certainly more than a handful), but where her roommate was all fire and sass, lit with a slow-burning inner rage that could flare into a blaze in an instant, Rachel and Brittany seemed animated by a simple, irrepressible joy, a happiness at living that made Quinn feel as though she'd been sleepwalking through her entire existence until this very moment.

They were an oddly matched pair, she thought. Where Rachel was petite, almost delicate, Brittany was tall, athletic and sinewy; had she not known the girl was a dancer, Quinn might have taken her for a basketball or volleyball player. And where Rachel had impressed her as a deep, serious and thoughtful type, Brittany was possessed of an almost childlike manner, free and easy with her thoughts and words. Yet somehow their very different personalities meshed together perfectly. As Brittany presented her bewildering yet always amusing theories on dolphins, unicorns, and her beloved cat, Lord Tubbington (who, she insisted solemnly, was a descendant of ancient cat nobility), Rachel just laughed and laughed, swinging the hands she had linked with both Quinn's and Brittany's as though she'd never had a care in the world. How was such pure happiness even possible, Quinn wondered. It positively radiated off the two girls walking beside her; she could feel it on her skin, seeping into her pores.

She felt intoxicated and invigorated and altogether different than she'd ever felt before. She had never been drunk in her life, but if this was what it felt like, then no wonder people wanted to experience this over and over again.

Brittany's eyes were so unlike Rachel's, blue and almond-shaped, and they crinkled when she smiled, which was constantly. If it was possible to actually see laughter in a pair of eyes, then Quinn would swear that it was there even when the girl spoke in a low, serious tone, trying to get a meaningful point across about the silliest of subjects. Her skin was fair, but not as pale as Quinn's own, her hair a luminous cornsilk gold; it put her in mind of the Elven queen in the "Lord of the Rings" movies. There was an almost otherworldly quality to Brittany, especially the way she moved. Her feet were so light, it was as though they barely touched the ground; her body just _flowed, _like a pennant in a gentle breeze.

Caught staring, Quinn was jolted from her thoughts by a gentle nudge to her ribs from Rachel after Brittany disengaged her hand from Rachel's to bound over to the window of a pet shop, her attention captured by the antics of several impossibly cute kittens at play.

"Brittany's great, isn't she?" Rachel asked, grinning.

"She's certainly...different," Quinn replied. "I've never met anyone like her. Does she run on batteries or something?"

Rachel laughed. "If she does, they seem to recharge themselves. Although meeting you has apparently given her an extra boost."

Brittany cooed and gestured at the kittens behind the glass, appearing all but oblivious to everything going on around her; but she was actually quite aware that Rachel was asking Quinn what she thought of her. Rachel had always been extremely protective of her best friend – if anyone had a problem with her, then they had a problem with Rachel. And while Rachel was just about the nicest person on the planet, she wasn't above telling anybody where to go if they had anything bad to say about Brittany. It had been that way since they'd bonded in elementary school, when Britt had played a lion and Rachel a flower in the school play.

"Me?" Quinn blushed, shrugging off the compliment. "No, I don't think so. I think she just soaks up all the energy, all the life around her, and she puts it back out, like, tenfold."

"She really likes you. I mean, she likes most people as a general rule, but she doesn't outline Lord Tubbington's full genealogy for just anybody."

Now it was Quinn's turn to laugh. When was the last time she had laughed and smiled so much? Had there ever been such a time? She couldn't recall one.

"So that's the Brittany stamp of approval, then? What does she talk about to people she doesn't like?"

Rachel considered this for a moment. "The time she got lost in the sewers. That's her sure fire topic for getting someone she doesn't like to go away, and fast."

Quinn's eyes widened. She couldn't help but gasp. "Did she – I mean, did she really – you know, get...lost? In the sewers?"

"I can neither confirm nor deny the truth of the story," Rachel said. "All I know is, she's either studied the city planning documents or she's got a _very _vivid imagination."

Quinn didn't know whether or not to take this at face value, but before she could say anything, Brittany bounced back over to them and the moment was lost.

"I'd totally love to adopt those kittens, but I'm afraid Lord Tubbington would have them smoking cigarettes and selling meth inside a month," she said, earning an "Aww, Britt" and a hug from Rachel.

Shaking her head, Quinn took Rachel's hand, surprised at how natural it felt for her to do so now, and said, "Come on, you two. Santana's still waiting for me, and while she'll just yell at me, I can't guarantee she won't go all Lima Heights on you for getting me back home so late."

Rachel huffed at that. "I'll have you know that I've taken several self-defense classes, and I'm much stronger than I look. It takes a lot more than a fiery attitude to intimidate me, I assure you."

"It's true," Brittany interjected. "She knows that Jewish karate stuff."

"Krav Maga?" Quinn asked, one perfectly sculpted eyebrow rising. Clearly, there was a lot more to Rachel than met the eye.

"No, that's that dance they do at weddings and stuff, the one where they go around in a circle."

Rachel blushed prettily under Quinn's scrutinizing gaze. "Let's go, Britt. I don't want to go all 'hava nagila' on anybody tonight."

"Okay!"

With that, the trio picked up the pace and headed into the final stretch towards Quinn's apartment. Soon, Quinn was recognizing the landmarks – _that _little deli, _this _corner market – that let her know she had finally gotten back to her own neighborhood at last. She breathed a sigh of relief, tinged with sadness that the journey was almost over and Rachel and Brittany would be leaving her soon, and took the lead as things came more and more into focus.

"Hold up. We're here."

The building was rather imposing, almost fortress-like, impressive in its solidity. Not warm and welcoming like the NYADA dormitory building, but clearly designed with safety and security in mind. Quinn unzipped her purse and withdrew a white card with a magnetic strip on it, then swiped the card through an electronic reader mounted on the wall next to the doors before punching a code into the keypad below it.

A loud buzz let the girls know that the doors were now unlocked and they were allowed to enter. Quinn pulled one of the doors open and said, "Home sweet home. It's not much, but..."

Looking around at the enormous lobby with its shiny tiled floor and equally shiny walls, one of which was completely taken up by mailboxes, Brittany let out a low whistle as Rachel exclaimed, "Quinn! This place is beautiful."

"Nothing but the best for Russell Fabray's little girl," Quinn murmured through clenched teeth. She winced at her inability to completely keep the edge of disgust from her voice, hoping the other girls hadn't noticed.

Rachel's sharp look let her know that she, at least, had noticed. Brittany, on the other hand, was still gawking in fascination at all the fancy decoration and design.

Quinn sighed; she didn't particularly want to explain, but knew that Rachel would probably ask about it at some later point. Her phone buzzed with a text message alert. That would be Santana, of course.

_Where are you at, Q?_

_Here. In the lobby._

_Well, come on up already then. How long do I have to wait to get my damned eats on?_

Quinn rolled her eyes at her best friend's words.

_Calm yourself. We'll be there shortly._

_Yeah, if you don't get lost trying to find the elevator._

_I love you too. And don't forget - I have guests, so play nice._

_Yeah, yeah. Just get your sweet little ass up here._

Quinn looked up from her phone to find her two new friends looking at her curiously. Rachel's eyes were filled with concern, as though Quinn had just received some kind of terrible news. Brittany's head was tilted to one side; her face showed that she was clearly trying to gauge whether Quinn was upset or unhappy with whatever the text messages had said.

"Relax, guys. I just had to tell Santana we made it here safely and we're about to come up."

The tension that had built in Rachel's neck and shoulders suddenly vanished. Quinn could see it leave the small girl's frame and felt somehow relieved; she hated the thought of being the cause of any distress to her. Brittany popped her head back into place and flashed an excited smile, clapping and bouncing in place.

"Yay! We're finally going to meet your roommate!"

Quinn just hoped that her newfound friendships would survive the experience.


	6. Chapter 6

**and i will sing this magic (into the world)**

**chapter six**

Santana Lopez was many things, but patient was not one of them. She was very much an 'instant gratification' kind of girl: she wanted what she wanted, when she wanted it, and in most instances, she wanted it _now. _Ironically, now that she was free of the tyrannical schedule that had been imposed by her high school cheerleading coach, Santana was rarely on time for anything these days, but really, who could blame her? After all, no one was going to make her run endless laps around the track or perform an extra two hundred crunches if she showed up to a coffee date at Starbucks at 2:05 instead of 2:00 now.

Still, it bothered her to no end whenever anyone else was late, or at least later than her. She supposed that might make her a teeny bit hypocritical, but whatever. Santana Lopez made her own rules in this brave new collegiate world, and anyone who didn't like it was just going to have to deal.

Besides, when it came to Quinn, her anxiety was more than justified. Her high school best friend had transferred here to NYU after a semester at Yale, and when she had told Santana that her father would be paying for an apartment near campus and invited her to share the place with her, Santana jumped at the chance to move out of the dorm and leave her creepy emo roommate behind. The bond of friendship between them had not weakened in the least during those lonely months apart, and living together had strengthened it still more.

Quinn was a model roommate: studious and quiet, generally not one for the party scene, although Santana could get her to loosen up on occasion when she sensed that Quinn's stress was on the rise. For the most part, she was an early to bed, early to rise type, but she was very careful not to wake Santana, who liked to stay up and sleep in as often as possible. Still, they made time to sit down and talk as much as they could with their busy class schedules and mountains of homework.

After a while, Santana became concerned that Quinn was spending a little too much time indoors. Always fair of complexion, the girl was becoming positively pale, and increasingly withdrawn. There had always been an air of melancholy around Quinn, a veil of cloud that Santana could never quite penetrate completely, but it seemed to her that the girl was becoming even more closed off, even more lost in her own head. So it was agreed, after much prodding, that she and Quinn would start exploring the city outside their dorm, going out at least once a week, usually on a Saturday or Sunday, walking along the streets in their neighborhood, finding interesting stores and restaurants to frequent. Often they would meet up at museums or movie theaters with the small but lively circle of friends they had established: Blaine, the drama major with a thing for hair gel and bowties; Mercedes, the sassy, irrepressible girl who loved R&amp;B almost as much as tater tots; and Artie, the wheelchair-bound film student whose disability had never affected his imagination or his determination to succeed when so many had told him he couldn't.

Then Quinn had suddenly announced, out of nowhere, that she wanted to try an excursion on her own. Santana was not enthusiastic, knowing that Quinn's sense of direction was less than great, and her grasp of the city's mass transportation system tenuous at best. But Quinn had been insistent, promising that she would call Santana if her phone's GPS program failed to provide the correct instructions. Reluctantly, Santana acquiesced, seeing the steely determination in Quinn's eyes and realizing that once her best friend was set on doing something, there was no convincing her otherwise.

So of course she was freaking out when Quinn was out way longer than the hour or two she'd said she would be – Santana was nothing if not protective of those she cared about – and alternating between fury and terror over her best friend's absence. And honestly, she was a bit angry with herself, too, feeling that she should have fought harder, gotten Quinn to see that she just wasn't ready to do this herself after such a short time here.

By the time Quinn had finally called her, Santana was absolutely seething, ready to explode after her worry and anger had built to near critical mass. She didn't know if she was going to slap Quinn or hug her when she walked through their door, regardless of the new friends her roommate had said she was bringing along.

She was still weighing her decision when she heard Quinn's key turn in the lock and the blonde stepped inside with an abashed look on her pretty face, followed by a short brunette in an even shorter skirt, and a tall blonde with cat-like eyes of the most amazing blue Santana had ever seen.

"Hi," was all Quinn said by way of greeting, and suddenly the room was a blur of dark skin and darker hair as Santana surged forward to wrap her best friend in a fierce embrace.

"Q," she sobbed into strands of luminescent blonde hair. Then she released the girl from her arms and fixed her with a furious glare even as she wiped her eyes free of tears. Her voice was raspy, and she gasped for breath between words. "Don't you _ever _make me fucking worry about you like that again! Jesus, Quinn, I – I was so scared that something really bad had happened to you, like some seriously horrible shit, you know? You can't do that to me, Q. You just _can't, _all right?"

"I'm sorry, Santana. I didn't mean to scare you. I just...I really thought I was ready. But nothing happened, okay? I met Rachel, and she helped me, and I'm here now. I'm _here_."

Rachel stepped forward, seeking to defuse the tension in the room, wanting to dispel the cloud of anger and fear tainting the atmosphere. She put on her best thousand-watt smile, extended her hand, and introduced herself.

"Hello, Santana. I'm Rachel Berry, and I'm a vocal performance major at the New York Academy of Dramatic Arts, otherwise known as NYADA, and" - she paused to gesture towards Brittany - "this is my roommate and best friend, Brittany S. Pierce. She's a dance major at Juilliard, which, as I'm sure you know, is one of the most prestigious and respected schools of its kind in the world. We are pleased and happy to make your acquaintance."

"Wow, Berry. May I call you Berry? Don't answer that, I don't really care. Do you _always_ use fifty words when you only really need, maybe, five?"

"Santana!" Quinn admonished. Rachel flinched at the harsh tone of voice; it was one she hadn't heard the girl use before. She much preferred the soft, almost tremulous tone she'd already become so enamored of hearing from her new friend's lips.

"Apologize and shake Rachel's hand. Right. Now."

The iron in Quinn's voice was matched only by the intensity of her glare and the determination in her stance, straight and firm, with her hands on both hips. She was _not _going to stand for Santana treating these two people, who had been so kind and helpful to her, with anything less than complete respect.

Brittany watched the exchange with keenly perceptive eyes. She could tell that Santana wasn't really a mean person, that she was just acting that way to divert attention away from the true emotion she had shown just moments before; she could also tell that both Quinn and Santana were very strong-willed, but in the end, Quinn would always get her way. Not because she was stronger, necessarily, but because Santana cared so much for Quinn that she would almost always back down rather than escalate a confrontation to a point where it might get out of control and cause them to hurt each other.

"Okay, okay. Sorry," Santana said, grasping Rachel's hand and shaking it quickly. "I'm just a little stressed out right now, you understand." She allowed herself a small smile at seeing Quinn's glare soften in approval. "Thanks for getting Q home. That was a really nice thing you did."

Feeling the tension finally dissipate, Rachel replied, "I was happy to do it. Quinn is a lovely person, and I'm delighted to have made such a wonderful new friend in her."

Quinn's heart melted at this, and she couldn't help but blush. Once again, she wondered how it was possible that someone as good and kind and generous as Rachel existed in the world, and how she had been so fortunate to meet and get to know her.

"And I'm happy to know Quinn too," Brittany spoke up. "She's completely awesome, which means you must be awesome too, because you're her best friend, and I don't think that Quinn would have anything less than an awesome best friend. Right?"

Santana blinked a couple times, staring at Brittany. This girl was way out there, but damn, she was hot. She'd never seen or met anyone quite like her. Her jaw worked up and down, as though she was trying to formulate a response, but no words would come forth. Finally, she managed to scoff out, "Well, _duh_. Of _course_ you're right. I mean, _look_ at me. Doesn't all this just _scream_ 'awesome'?"

Brittany laughed, and everyone else quickly followed. The long-limbed dancer gracefully glided over to where Santana stood, and before the girl could react, wrapped her in a typically bone-crunching Brittany hug, whispering in her ear: "_Definitely _awesome."

Santana's body flushed with heat at the words even as she found herself struggling for oxygen in Brittany's vice-like embrace.

Rachel and Quinn shared a look, remembering back to not very long ago, when Quinn had been on the receiving end of Brittany's attentions, and again, they broke out into peals of laughter.

Startled by the sudden sound, Brittany released Santana, who gratefully sucked in a giant breath of air.

"You okay there, Santana?" Quinn asked, trying to get her laughter under control. Rachel noted that her voice had regained the sweet breathiness that she loved hearing.

Now it was Santana's turn to glare at her roommate. "I'm...I'm _fine, _Q. I just...I need a minute." She turned to Rachel, whose shoulders still shook with silent mirth, and addressed her. "Holy crap, Berry, what do you _feed_ this girl? Whatever it is, you need to give her less of it."

"I apologize, Santana. I was remiss in failing to warn you that Brittany is simply unaware of her own strength and fails to realize, in her exuberance, that her hugs can be injurious to the one she's hugging if she's not careful."

"It's true," Brittany said. "Although, on the other hand, my uncle told me that he stopped going to his chiropractor after the last time he visited – he said I cracked his back way better than that guy did, and he went to school for that."

"Somehow, I have no trouble believing that," Santana replied, and they all laughed long and loud once again.

Rachel looked at her watch; her smile fell and was replaced by an expression of sadness upon seeing the time. Quinn caught the emotions that played across Rachel's face and knew that her new friends would have to leave shortly.

"Rachel," she said thickly, overcome with sadness at the thought of Rachel and Brittany's impending departure. "You have to go, don't you?"

Rachel's deep brown eyes reflected the same sadness as they met with Quinn's hazel ones, and she nodded affirmatively. Santana and Brittany were sharing a similar look, knowing that they were about to part, and not wanting to do so at all.

"Here," Rachel said, pulling her iPhone from her purse and handing it to Quinn. "Give me your number, and Santana's, and I'll put both of them into Brittany's phone as well. We'll each text you when we get home to let you know that we've arrived safely. Then you'll have our numbers too. Okay?"

Quinn's fingers brushed against Rachel's as she took the phone, and lingered there for a second or two longer than might be deemed normal. She tapped in her number, then Santana's, and handed the phone back to Rachel.

"There you go. I..." Quinn faltered, her breath caught momentarily in her throat. "Thank you, Rachel. For _everything_. I'm so glad we met today. Please let us know when you get home, all right?"

Rachel wrapped her arms around Quinn's taller frame and drew her in for a gentle, not at all Brittany-like, hug. It was soft and reassuring and altogether perfect, the way their bodies fit against each other. Quinn inhaled the scent of Rachel's hair, not wanting to ever let the girl go, silently cursing the knowledge that she had to.

Brittany and Santana settled for holding each other's hands. Brittany kissed Santana's cheek, much to both girls' surprise. Not that either of them minded, of course.

"Don't be sad, you guys. We'll see you again soon, I promise. Right, Rachel?" Brittany asked, though the question was quite obviously a rhetorical one.

Rachel reluctantly pulled away from Quinn and looked the taller girl directly in the eye. Her voice was choked with the effort of straining to hold back tears, but she somehow managed to say, "Absolutely right, Britt."

Brittany released Santana's hands from her grasp, leaving one of her pinky fingers entwined with one of Santana's for a few moments longer before letting it go too. The contact was immediately missed.

"All right, then," Rachel chirped, trying to sound cheerful and almost succeeding. "We're off. Quinn, don't hesitate to contact me if you need any assistance in mapping out another excursion for yourself. Or perhaps," her eyes sought and held Quinn's once more, and there was something like a plea within them, "you'd like to see me sing in the subway station again?"

"I'd like that a lot, Rachel."

Rachel smiled warmly at Quinn's answer. "It's a date, then. Come on, Brittany. We've got a train to catch, and not all that much time to do it."

Brittany bounded over to stand at Rachel's side, all sleek and cat-like. "Okay. Bye, Santana. Bye, Quinn. It was awesome to meet you. We should totally have a pizza or something soon."

"Yeah, that would be great," Santana said, dazed by the attraction she felt toward this girl she'd just met. It was crazy, she knew, but she was already completely into Brittany, and she found that she couldn't wait to see her again.

Quinn walked over to the door and opened it for the two departing girls.

"Well, I guess this is goodnight, then," she said. Then she thought a moment before adding, "But not goodbye."

"No," Rachel replied softly. "Most certainly _not_ goodbye."

Then she and Brittany were out the door. Quinn leaned her back against it after it closed, already counting the minutes until she heard from Rachel again.


	7. Chapter 7

**and i will sing this magic (into the world)**

**chapter seven**

Santana watched as Quinn leaned her back against the door, observing her best friend's face and seeing something in it that she hadn't in a long time: genuine happiness. The girl's eyes were actually shining with it, her smile soft and warm and peacefully content. It was a marvel to see the way all the wary tension that had come to dominate Quinn's countenance and even her body was just _gone. _She looked like a beautiful, delicate flower that had just bloomed after a long, dark winter, glowing in the first light of spring. The transformation was absolutely startling, and Santana's heart just melted at the sight. All this because of one chance meeting with one short brunette singing in a subway station?

Well, stranger things had happened, she supposed.

Quinn let out a long, wistful sigh and shook her head lightly, tossing her wavy blonde tresses about as though a sudden breeze had swept through the room.

"You miss her already, huh?" Santana teased. She didn't want to dampen Quinn's mood, but she couldn't help herself. When the opportunity for teasing arose, Santana Lopez would take it just about every time.

Quinn jumped slightly, startled as if she'd forgotten that Santana was even there – and judging by the dreamy, far-away look she knew she was wearing, it was entirely possible that she had – but then she chuckled lightly, letting her roommate know that she'd taken no offense to the gentle barb.

"Come on, Fabray. I know you. I can read you like a book. You can't hide anything from me. It's obvious. You really, really like the midget."

Trying and failing to replace her smile with a glare, Quinn huffed, "Don't call her that! You're only, like, maybe three inches taller than she is. And yes, I admit it. I like her. I like her a lot. She's...she's..." she paused, searching her mental dictionary for the right word before sighing once again and settling for, "Amazing."

"Wow, Q. You've got one of the largest vocabularies of anybody I've ever known, and 'amazing' is the best you can do? Really?"

"Fantastic. Spectacular. Awesome. Wonderful. All of the above. How's that?"

Santana looked down at her nails, affecting a bored manner. "Eh. Okay. I guess." Then she raised her eyes to meet a real glare from Quinn - complete with the dangerously raised eyebrow that she had long known as a warning - and put her hands up in surrender. "All right, all right. So now that we've established that you really like the mid –" The eyebrow went up still further. "I mean, Rachel – what are we going to do about it?"

"'We?'" Quinn scoffed. Then her tone softened as her mind instantly raced back to the image of Rachel's luminous smile and phenomenal voice. "God, Santana. I don't know. I mean, I just met her, and I...I've never liked someone so much right away, the way I like her. How could she possibly feel the same way, so soon? We still don't really know each other. And...and I don't even know if she – you know, if she's like _me."_

"Like _us,_ you mean," Santana corrected. "Let me offer you my honest opinion, 'cause you know Auntie Tana gives no other kind: she _is_, and she likes you too. I saw the way she was looking at you, you know, when you were being all shy and cutesy, looking away every time she turned in your direction. And as your resident expert on these matters, I can report to you that it was _not_ the look of someone who's not into you."

Hope leapt in Quinn's chest. Despite her extraordinary beauty, she was honestly not the poster child for high self-esteem. Not after everything that had happened back home. She was always unsure, always questioning, always second-guessing herself. Santana understood, never pressured her, never pushed her too far when she was too fragile to bear it, but when the moment called for it, she was unwavering in her encouragement and positive reinforcement. Quinn would never be able to adequately express her gratitude to Santana for that, but then again, she knew she would never have to. That was just how things had always been with them.

"You really think so, San?" she questioned softly, releasing another sigh as she spoke. "She's so sweet. So kind and generous, and so talented, it's ridiculous. I've never met anyone quite like her. And every time she touched me, it was like...like...I can't even begin to explain it. Like, suddenly I felt everything inside and around me become so much more vivid and intense. As though there was this...energy that we shared, shooting through her fingers and into me."

Santana's eyes widened as she took in her best friend's words. Never had she heard Quinn speak of anyone like this. Relationships - the few that there had been - tended to build slowly, gradually over time with Quinn. She usually needed to find her ground, build up trust and lower her defenses bit by bit, take down her walls brick by brick, before allowing herself to feel strongly for another person. To hear her so completely open and vulnerable like this, so quickly? It was at once thrilling and scary for Santana, which meant it must feel many times more so for Quinn.

"Damn. I've never seen anyone get to you like this, Q. She must be, like, magic."

Quinn hugged herself, still missing the warmth of the last hug Rachel had given her as they'd said their goodbyes. Closing her eyes, she imagined the singer's arms around her, not her own, feeling the deceptive strength there, feeling the affection that clearly already existed between them and reveling in it.

"She is, San. That's _exactly_ what she is. Maybe...maybe when she was singing, she cast a spell over me. Maybe she sings magic. But I think...I think, if...if she did cast a spell, when we were there in the subway, well...I don't mind at all. If this is what magic feels like, she can just keep casting spells over and over again."

Even as Quinn said this, Santana's own mind was suddenly clouded by the image of another blonde-haired girl's mischievous blue cat-eyes and quirky, playful grin, and she couldn't keep the smile off her face.

"I think I know what you mean, Q."

And she did. Because somehow, some way, Rachel's roommate Brittany had walked into their living room, into their lives, and in the space of minutes, completely disarmed Santana and taken up residence in her thoughts and her heart. The girl's goofy manner and easy laugh had snuck up on her, caught her off-guard, and just when she'd thought she'd reached a point in her life when she was ready to be alone and concentrate on her studies and on being there for Quinn - the way she hadn't always done back home, she thought guiltily - Santana found herself wondering what it might be like to spend more time with the off the wall dancer.

It must have been magic. What else could it be?

Unable to shake her mind free of the thought of Brittany, finding that she didn't really want to anyway, Santana decided to venture asking the question that wouldn't let go, insisting on being voiced.

"What do you think of Brittany?"

Now it was Quinn's turn to be surprised. If there was anyone more difficult to impress than her best friend, Quinn had yet to meet them. Arching her eyebrow once more, she wordlessly expressed her mild shock.

"I think she's a lot of fun. I really enjoyed getting to know her a little bit when we were making our way back here from their place. Why? You interested in her?"

Santana crossed her arms in defiance, drawing a chuckle from Quinn. Nobody did denial like her best friend.

"No," the darker girl replied, trying to voice the word with her usual cutting edge, without success. "I mean, I think she's cool and everything, but you know I'm not trying to get with anybody right now. I'm just concentrating on school and on making sure you're okay. I just...I'm just wondering what her deal is, that's all."

Laughing openly now, Quinn said, "Hey, you're not the only one around here that's easily read. You _are _interested in Brittany. I know you are! Aw, San, that's so cute. You're blushing!"

"Am _not!" _Santana spat, oblivious to the fact that her effort to deny it only made her blush harder. "Santana Lopez doesn't do the blushing thing. That's for fair-haired, fair-skinned European-Scandinavian types like you."

"You are _so _blushing. And you are _so _interested in Brittany," Quinn chortled in delight. It was rare to see Santana so flustered and out of sorts, as the girl prided herself on being calm, cool and collected at all times.

"Aw, why don't you go call – or text, or whatever – your special new friend from the Cabbage Patch and leave me alone?" blustered Santana, frustrated at being caught off-guard for the second time this night - especially by Quinn, who was enjoying the moment _way _too much.

Quinn affected a pout, then laughed again at her friend's obvious discomfort. "See, now I _know _that Brittany's got you off your game. I mean, 'Cabbage Patch'? Really?"

"Oh, whatever. That was brilliant. Just because you're not up on your 80s toy crazes, doesn't mean that joke wasn't awesome. Okay, here's something more current – go use your magical connection to contact your little hobbit in the Shire. How's that?"

"Much better. Now _that's _the bitch I know and love."

"That's Head Bitch to you, blondie. And don't you forget it."

"You love me too."

"As _if. _You're just here because I hate sleeping alone. This place is full of creepy noises at night. I just know there's a perv in a weird-ass Halloween mask carrying a butcher knife out there somewhere, just waiting to pounce on a piece of hotness like me. You're my human shield, that's all."

"That's the sweetest thing you've ever said to me, Santana – I'm touched."

"Yeah, well, don't get all mushy on me, Fabray. Now come on - we've still got some leftover pizza that's got to be re-heated _again_ because _somebody _came home way too late to enjoy it the first time."

Just as Quinn was about to respond, her phone chimed with an alert, letting her know that she had received a new text message.

"The Shire, I presume," Santana snarked at the sight of Quinn's face lighting up as the message was read.

"Shut up, San. Let me read this in peace," Quinn snapped, making Santana's eyes go wide at the ferocity of her best friend's response. Apologies would be made later, as they always were.

_Finally got enough signal to send you a quick text. Brittany says hi. :-)_

Quinn smiled, biting her lip as she considered her response, her roommate's snarkiness forgotten for the moment. Then she rapidly typed out a reply, hoping that it would be received before Rachel's signal died out again.

_Hi back. Text me again when you get home. Or call. :-)_

Raising her eyes from her phone, Quinn met Santana's expectant gaze and drawled in a singsong voice, "Brittany says hi."

"What? She does _not," _Santana scoffed, her arms still crossed. Then, her voice charged with concern and intense curiosity, she said, "Wait. She _does_? Let me see that."

Quinn smiled an evil smile. "Oh, you wanted to see the message? Too bad I already deleted it. So sorry."

"Oh, you _did not, _bitch," Santana snarled. "I _know _you didn't. Now give me that phone! I wants to see that message, and I wants to see it _now!"_

Quinn just managed to evade her best friend's lunge and ran, laughing, into her bedroom. She was just barely able to close and lock the door. Her laughter only grew harder and louder at the pounding blows of Santana's fists on the hard wood, and the enraged Spanish curses accompanying them. The girl would tire herself out eventually.

Ranting while assaulting bedroom doors was hard work.

Even if Santana did have a cheerleader's athletic endurance.

But tire she did, and after about fifteen minutes, Quinn emerged and showed her the message, after which all was forgiven over re-heated pizza and more teasing about blonde, blue-eyed dancers and singing hobbits from the Shire.

Not long after the table was cleared and the dishes were cleaned and put away, Santana set up shop there with her textbooks and notebooks and laptop, while Quinn sat on the couch and stared at her phone, waiting for Rachel to call or message her.

Santana peered at her roommate over her glasses, bemused at the seriousness of Quinn's concentrated expression as she held the phone before her. It was as if she were trying to cause the phone to chime or ring by sheer force of will. Santana would have found it amusing, endearing even, if she weren't still just a little mad at the girl.

"She'll call or text as soon as she's able, Quinn. Now stop staring at that screen before you burn it, or your eyes, out."

"Thanks, Mom," Quinn shot back. She knew she shouldn't take her anxiety out on her best friend, who was only trying to alleviate it, after all.

"Hey, don't blame me when you're getting fitted for a pair of permanent sunglasses, Q. When that day comes, I'll tell them that I tried to warn you, but you just wouldn't listen."

"You're a true humanitarian, San. Don't you have homework to do, or a contract with Satan to renew or something?"

"Oh, that hurts. Here I am, trying to look out for your health, and this is the thanks I get? See if the hobbit can take care of you like I do, then."

Quinn huffed in frustration. "Santana, I didn't mean -"

"I know you didn't, Q. But for reals, just relax. I'm sure she's going to call or text you any minute now."

"But what if something _happened_ to her, San?" Quinn cried out. "I could never forgive myself if she was hurt because of me, because she had to come out here just to get me home, and then it was too late and unsafe for her and Brittany to be out, and they got mugged or – or worse?"

"Okay, first of all – now you know how _I _felt when you were out there, who knows where, and I didn't know what the hell was going on. Second of all, if anyone can take care of themselves, it's those two, I'm sure of it. They know what they're doing. I can tell. My Mexican third eye would sense it if anything was wrong, and all it's telling me right now is that they probably stopped off for coffee somewhere before getting back to their place."

"You're right. That's probably all it is. I'm sorry, San. I can't help but worry, though."

"That's because you're not a bitch like me," Santana jibed, trying to break through her best friend's intense anxiety once again. "Seriously, though. They're all right."

And sure enough, Quinn's phone finally began to ring, startling the girl so badly that she almost dropped the device.

"Hey. Glad you finally called. I was beginning to worry," Quinn breathed in relief. Suddenly she wanted nothing more than to hear Rachel sing.

Santana didn't even spare her best friend a smirk as she walked past. Besides, the girl wasn't even looking at her anyway, lost as she was in the spell that had reasserted its power over her once more. She merely shook her head and went back to her work as she heard the door to Quinn's bedroom close with a quiet _snick._

It was _on _if she ever tried to hide another word from Brittany again, though.

* * *

**A/N: Thanks, once again, to everyone who's followed, favorited and reviewed this story so far. It's a labor of love, as are my other stories (yes, _Best Summer Ever _will be updated soon, I promise!), and while I'm not one who likes to beg for reviews, I'd like to extend the invitation to anyone who is reading and enjoying this story to tell me what you like, what you might not like, and what you might want to see by leaving a review or sending me a private message. I will respond to everyone who takes a moment to do so, rest assured. Your support and encouragement means the world to me. Until next time...**


	8. Chapter 8

**and i will sing this magic (into the world)**

**chapter eight**

Nothing made Brittany feel safer than walking with Rachel. No matter where they were, or where they had to go, she knew that her best friend had her back and would go to any lengths to protect her. It had been that way between them practically all their lives. Both of them knew it would remain so.

Rachel had always looked out for her with the ferocity of a mother bear, which was a funny image to Brittany's mind, since Rachel couldn't possibly look less like a bear if she tried. Yet it was true: despite her small stature, Rachel was not someone anybody wanted to anger. She did not suffer fools gladly, and was not afraid to say exactly what she thought of them, no matter the situation. Furthermore, she had the physical skills to back up her words if need be. Beneath the calm, placid exterior burned a powerful sense of right and wrong, and in her mind, anyone who tried to hurt or take advantage of Brittany was most definitely wrong.

For this reason, Rachel had always looked out for Brittany's heart when it came to relationships. After they had come out to each other in high school, they had decided not to risk their friendship by trying to escalate it into a relationship, and so they had always turned to each other first when prospective girlfriends entered their lives. It was silently agreed that neither would date someone of whom her best friend did not approve, and though they had other friends who'd questioned the wisdom of giving each other so much power over their lives, they'd thought of it as a perfectly natural thing for best friends to do.

So as they sat next to each other on the sparsely populated subway train that would finally get them back home, Rachel lay her head on her best friend's shoulder and let the taller girl play with her hair, humming an aimless tune as she did so.

"Mmm...that's nice, Britt," Rachel murmured, enjoying the feeling of her roommate's fingers massaging her scalp, running through her dark locks.

Brittany giggled at the low gurgle of Rachel's sleepy voice. It had been a long day for the petite singer, and she would be very glad to get home and into bed. But they still had a ways to go before reaching their ultimate destination, so Brittany was determined to keep her best friend awake and alert until then. And the best way to do that, without breaking into song, was to get Rachel talking.

"I really like Quinn," she said brightly. "And you're, like, totally smitten with her. That's good, because I think she really likes you too."

"We're friends, Britt," Rachel replied. She removed her head from Brittany's shoulder, folded her hands in her lap. She couldn't look Brittany in the face, knowing the girl would read in her eyes what she wasn't prepared to admit in words.

"But she wouldn't mind being more. And neither would you."

And there it was: the thing she couldn't bring herself to say. The thing that Brittany had known instantly, just because she knew Rachel so well after so many years of being best friends. Rachel's insides twisted. It was crazy, how attracted she felt to someone she'd just met and still barely even knew. Nothing like this had ever happened to her before. It was thrilling and frightening at the same time, and Rachel didn't know what to make of it.

But she couldn't lie. Not to Brittany.

"I...well...no. No, I wouldn't mind. Of course not. She's a very pretty girl, probably the prettiest I've ever met. But...she's a lot more than that. We still don't know a lot about each other, though. I mean...what if she's...you know..."

Brittany giggled. "Not a unicorn? Oh, sweetie, you don't have to worry about that. She's a _total_ unicorn. Just like Santana."

"Wait – _what? Santana? _How do you...how do you know that? I didn't get that feeling from her at all."

"Come on, Rachel. This is _me _you're talking to, remember? When have I _ever_ been wrong about this kind of thing?"

Rachel thought back to all the seemingly straight-as-an-arrow classmates they'd known in high school that Brittany had privately pointed out to her matter-of-factly, as calmly as if she were discussing the school lunch menu or the weather or whatever, confidently revealing closely guarded secrets as though they were public knowledge. No one could read people like Brittany. To her extraordinary powers of perception, everyone was an open book. Nothing escaped her notice, and even the smallest habit, most subtle gesture or nervous tic spoke volumes. It was a talent, like her dancing or Rachel's singing, something she'd always had the ability to do. Moods and emotions were complex mysteries to the rest of the world, but not to Brittany. It was simply impossible to hide anything from her, and Rachel had indeed learned a long time ago that it served no purpose to try.

"She's really sweet, Rachel, and she's completely into you. Her face just lights up when she looks at you, and she smiles this cute, shy little smile when you're not looking back. Then she bites her lip and pushes her hair back behind her ears, and I can totally tell she's thinking about how much she'd like to kiss you and touch you and -"

"Okay! So – I'm attracted to Quinn. And you believe she's attracted to me as well. And...oh!" The light bulb went on in her head, and Rachel smiled. "Are you attracted to Santana?"

"Well, _duh, _silly. And she's completely into me too. Which is awesome, because we're gonna go on double dates and, like, get our sweet lady kisses on in the movie theater 'cause no one can see us in there when it's all dark, and they can't hear us over the sound of the movie – well, maybe they'll hear _you, _'cause you're kinda loud even when you don't want to be, but you can't help that because you have such an awesome voice and it's just meant to be loud, that's just how you are."

Rachel allowed herself to imagine the scenario that Brittany had just described, and found she had to it admit it was quite appealing. But before she could allow herself to get lost in that thought, she realized where they were and pulled her phone out to dash off a quick text to Quinn.

"Tell Santana I said hi," Brittany said.

Rachel nodded and tapped on a few more keys, then sent the message with barely a moment to spare. "Whew! I wasn't sure that one would get out before the signal went away," she breathed before placing the phone back into her purse.

Then she looked at her best friend, about to express surprise that she knew who the intended recipient of the message was; but of _course_ she would know. Hadn't they just established that Brittany knew all when it came to this sort of thing? So she said nothing, allowing the blush on her cheeks to speak for her as Brittany met her gaze with her own happy look.

"I don't know about you, Britt-Britt, but I could definitely go for a cup of coffee or something before we go home. I don't want to get in and then fall asleep before I've had a chance to call Quinn to let her know we made it back safely."

"That's a great idea, but -" Brittany's smile fell, replaced by a small frown, as something occurred to her. "I know she'll be worried about us until you call her, though. Do you really want to take that extra time and let her worry even longer? I don't want her to go from worried to, like, super-worried, and she's totally the type who would do that."

Rachel knew better than to dismiss Brittany's concern out of hand, especially since she agreed with it; still, though, she really needed that coffee if she was going to be at all coherent when she called Quinn. She didn't want to yawn or slur her words as she conversed, because Rachel Berry prided herself on being clear and present at all times, and she was simply _not _going to let her beautiful new friend hear her sounding as though she were about to slip into a years-long slumber.

"It won't take that long, Brittany. I promise. We'll just get our cups to go, and then we'll be home again before you know it."

"I don't know...I don't want Quinn to be scared that something might have happened to us and then freak out while we're getting you all caffeinated, and you shouldn't drink that stuff anyway because it makes you all jumpy and then you can't sleep."

"Please, Britt? I'll just get a small cup for myself, and a big hot chocolate for you, with marshmallows and everything. The biggest one they have!"

Brittany weighed the offer, but shook her head in the negative. Still, Rachel could see her roommate's resolve cracking. Hot chocolate was the dancer's biggest weakness. She would do almost anything if a cup of the sweet, delicious beverage was the reward for it.

"Don't make me pout at you. You know I will."

That finally did it. The pout was Rachel's ultimate weapon, used only as a last resort when all else failed, because its power could far be abused far too easily.

"Okay, okay," Brittany said, raising her hands as if to shield her eyes. "Not that. Anything but that!"

"Yes!" Rachel exclaimed, internally fist pumping over her victory. Soon, coffee would be hers at last, and then she would be able to savor her conversation with the new blonde in her life, the one who was already beginning to dominate her thoughts in spite of the very brief time they had known each other.

"But we _have _to come right home after that, because– oh, wait. Oh!"

Rachel looked at her best friend, seeing the wheels turning in her clever but unusual mind, the smile that always accompanied an important realization or profound observation or burst of creativity breaking out upon her face like a slowly moving sunrise.

"What is it, Britt?"

Brittany beamed. "Santana! She's going to take care of Quinn when she gets all scared and worried and freaked out. She'll hold Quinn together so she doesn't fall apart, until you call her, 'cause that's the kind of person she is underneath all that growling and snarling. She likes to act like a tough, angry lioness, but if you look past that, she's really just a sweet little kitten. See, that's why I like her so much. I can _feel_ how much she cares about Q. I know she'll do just about anything to protect Quinn or make her feel better when she's all sad, and she'll never let anyone hurt her as long as she can do anything about it, and that's how she is with anyone she cares about. That's the way they work, just like you and me."

"Of course they do. That's how all best friends work."

Rachel's heart swelled with affection for Brittany, who was undoubtedly the most giving, caring and loyal friend anyone could possibly want. When they made her, Rachel was sure, they not only broke the mold; no, they shattered it into pieces, and then crushed the pieces into dust.

"Yeah. Hey, our stop's coming up!"

"_Finally," _Rachel groaned. She'd had quite enough of the subway for one day, thank you very much. Now it was time for coffee, Quinn, and bed, in that order.

Brittany stood and stretched her long, lithe dancer's legs for a moment, then held out her hands for Rachel to take. They shared a weary smile as Rachel let her best friend pull her to her feet, and moments later, the train rumbled to a stop.

The two girls made their way out of the train and soon they were out of the station and onto the street once again. The coffee shop, Beanie's, wasn't far from their apartment, and Rachel hoped that Kurt would be behind the counter to take their orders and not Finn. The taller of the two boys was nice enough, but his constant flirting and inability to take "no" for an answer had really gotten on her nerves lately.

Fortunately, her prayers to the coffee gods were answered, and Kurt grinned and waved happily with his trademark enthusiasm when he saw them walk through the door and into the shop.

"Good evening ladies, and welcome to Beanie's! How may I help you this evening?" he said, bowing with a flourish (a move that never failed to elicit a round of giggles from the girls) as they approached the counter.

"Kurt! Really - as though you don't know both of our orders by heart now!" Rachel mock scolded the elfin-looking boy.

He merely sniffed and adjusted the kerchief tied around his neck, just above the open collar of the white dress shirt he wore underneath his coffee-colored (what else?) apron, not deigning to reply. Instead he spun on his heel to begin making their orders.

Brittany rolled her eyes at Kurt's dramatics; people called Rachel a diva, but honestly, she had nothing on the tall, slender boy whose hands moved expertly with cups and machinery as he hummed a Broadway tune. She knew he couldn't stay silent for very long, and so did Rachel. They looked at each other, then at their watches, as though synchronizing them in anticipation of Kurt's inevitable questioning.

"Sooooo...where have you two been all day? David tells me you've been in and out, which I should not have to hear from _him_, which I should be hearing from _you_. After all, it's not as though I'm your best male confidante or anything..."

"Oh, Kurt, I'm sorry. I know, I probably should have called you after my set in the subway, but something came up, an urgent situation that required immediate – and, as it turned out, extended – attention." Rachel paused as Kurt handed the girls their cups. "Um, I'm sorry – I should have said – I need a smaller cup." She shot him an apologetic smile.

Kurt's eyes goggled in shock. Never had anyone asked him to downsize an order before. (Granted, he had only been working there for two weeks, but..._still._)

"Yeah. The smallest one," Brittany chirped helpfully. "Rachel promised."

Rachel handed the large cup back to Kurt, and he wordlessly poured a quarter of its contents into the smallest available cup and attached the lid to it.

"There _will _be an explanation forthcoming, I trust," he said, his eyes narrowing at them.

"Yes, there will. But not now. And not tonight. Because tonight, I am very tired and ready to collapse into my bed, which is calling me," Rachel said. She smiled wearily as she handed him the money to pay for the drinks. Kurt's eyes softened as he took in the slump of her shoulders and the lethargy of her moments, and he acknowledged his understanding that she really _was _exhausted with a nod and a small smile.

"I don't hear your phone ringing. Did you switch it to vibrate when we were on the train?"

Laughing, Rachel replied, "No, Britt-Britt. Let's go home. I'll talk to you tomorrow, Kurt."

"Have a good night, ladies," he said softly, and watched them leave, listening to the chime of the bell above the door as they walked out into the night.


	9. Chapter 9

**and i will sing this magic (into the world)**

**chapter nine**

The days passed in a dazed blur of waking dreams and restless nights for Quinn. She found it difficult to pay attention in class, writing Rachel's name over and over again in her notebook when she should have been taking notes; and at home, when it was time to face the increasing amount of homework she had yet to finish, she was composing lengthy e-mails to Rachel that she couldn't summon up the courage to send. If it weren't for Santana's relentless admonitions to stop mooning over the pint-sized singer, she was sure she'd never get anything done.

"Are you texting the little hobbit again, Fabray?" came Santana's half-amused, half-annoyed voice from the kitchen, where the legendary recipe for chicken fajitas she'd _finally_ gotten out of her _abuela _was being put to good use. The delicious aromas wafting through the spacious apartment were very nearly as distracting to Quinn as the visions of Rachel dancing through her head. Her stomach growled as she suddenly realized how long it had been since her breakfast at the library, where she'd been valiantly attempting to complete her work on a research paper in the hope that the more academic environment would force her to concentrate. She'd succeeded for a while, until she'd received a text from Rachel with a video attachment of her and Brittany waving "hello," and then she'd spent a half-hour watching it over and over again before realizing that she'd lost whatever drive she had to finish the paper.

It had taken all the strength Quinn had to keep herself from pulling out Rachel's printed point-by-point instructions on how to get to the NYADA dorms from her purse and running over to the subway station, research paper and homework be damned.

"No," Quinn lied, even though she knew Santana could tell she was lying. Her distraction was fully evident when she asked, "Hey, did I show you the video Rachel sent me this morning of her and Brittany?"

Santana shook her head at her best friend's obliviousness. It wasn't all that long ago that the girl had burst into the apartment still breathless with excitement over the 15-second clip, practically screaming _Oh my god, San, you have to see this! _so loud she'd awakened their late-sleeping neighbors for sure.

"Yeah, Q. You did. About fifty times, not that I was actually counting. And then I told you that Brittany had sent me one too and you were just like, _that's nice, _and then you went back to going on about how cute Rachel is and how sweet it was that she sent you the video. I'm pretty sure I went into a coma, died and came back to life while you were busy not shutting up over the whole nauseating thing."

Quinn blushed hard, thankful that Santana was facing the stove and therefore couldn't see her.

"A simple _no _would have been sufficient," Quinn mumbled, feeling slightly angry and embarrassed over her own behavior.

"Look, I get that you're crushing hard on the girl, Q, and really, I'm happy for you. Just try to remember that other people have lives too, ones that don't necessarily have to stop every time you hear from Rachel."

"It's not like I have other people to share this with, San," Quinn objected. "If I don't talk about it with you, who am I going to talk to? My _mother_?"

Santana sighed. "Well, you know, I've tried to get you out of your shell, join some clubs, go to some events on campus, make some new friends. It's hard to believe that you were the most popular girl in high school sometimes."

Wincing at the jab to what her best friend knew was a sore spot, Quinn bristled, "You remember as well as I do how many of the so-called friends I had in that school were nothing but social leeches who were just trying to gain status points by being around me. Besides, I'm _not_ anti-social. I'm just...selective."

"If by _selective _you mean _afraid, _then I agree. You're scared to meet new people, to trust anybody, and nobody understands the reason why better than I do. Honestly, I'm amazed that you let Rachel in so quickly and easily. I don't think you've ever been the way you are with her with anybody else, ever."

Quinn bit her lip. "Rachel's different. She's...she's _special._ She makes me forget who I was...who I _am. _I feel like a different person with her. A better one."

"It hasn't been that long that you've known her, but I can see that you've changed because of her Middle-Earth magic. If you repeat this to anyone, I'll deny it, but it's a change for the better. Seriously, I like happy, smiling Quinn a lot more than sad, morose Quinn."

One of the songs Rachel had sung that day in the subway came to Quinn's memory then, and she began to sing softly in her breathy, tremulous alto:

_Who can say if I've been changed for the better – because I knew you, I have been changed for good..._

Not for the first time, Santana was struck by the beauty of Quinn's voice, by the sheer depth of emotion it carried as the words she had sung faded into silence. She put her cooking implements down and gripped at the edge of the counter as her own feelings swelled up inside her, thinking about everything her best friend had been through, how thankful she was that fate had brought them together again.

"You know, Q, you keep talking about how Rachel sings like an angel, but you're really not so bad yourself," she said quietly.

Quinn opened her mouth to respond, but before she could get a word out, the new text notification sound chimed from her phone.

_Hello, Quinn – I'll be singing at the subway station again later. Think you and Santana could find your way there to see me? Britt and I will spring for coffee or something afterwards._

Quinn smiled widely. It was the smile she had begun to think of as her "Rachel smile," because the little diva was the only person who'd ever gotten her to smile that way. She immediately began to text her response.

_San and I are about to have lunch, and then I've got some homework to do, but yes, I think we can work you into our schedule._

She imagined the radiant, beaming smile that would be on Rachel's face when she read the reply, excited that in a matter of hours, she would be seeing it again for real.

_Excellent. Well, I must continue my warm-ups now if I am to give my best performance later. I'll text you when we're on our way._

_I can't wait to hear you sing again._

Quinn surprised herself with that one. She hadn't meant to type what was in her head at that moment, she really hadn't, but before she could even think of stopping her fingers from acting on their own, the message was out there and on her screen. It was so..._forward. _She ran her hand through her hair in the way she always did when she was anxious and unsure, and held her breath in anticipation of Rachel's response.

_I've wanted nothing more than to sing for you again since we met. See you later. XO_

It was enough to make Quinn swoon, and she had never swooned over anything or anyone ever in her life. She felt giddy, elated; happiness rose like bubbles in her chest, making her feel light and airy, and she couldn't help but laugh with excitement.

"So I guess we have plans to attend a concert in the subway, huh? Well, at least you can't get lost this time," Santana snarked from her position directly behind Quinn, where she'd been reading over her shoulder. Quinn jumped in surprise, almost dropping her phone.

"Damn it, Santana, don't _do _that!" she cried. Her best friend merely smirked in response, earning Quinn's most withering glare.

"Sorry, Q, but lunch has been ready for five minutes here. You don't want to eat cold fajitas, do you? Well, even if you _do_ – which would be fucking weird - I _don't_. So move your ass over to the table already, before I go all Lima Heights Adjacent on it."

Quinn slapped away the hand that Santana had placed on her shoulder, irritated, and rose from the couch, leaving her phone on the little coffee table there.

"You're just lucky your _abuela_'s recipes are so awesome," she grumbled. "Otherwise I _so_ would not be eating at the same table with you right now."

"Yeah, yeah," Santana airily dismissed her roommate's irritation with a wave of her hand. "You love me, and nothing in the world will ever change that, Fabray. Not even your newfound fascination for woodland-dwelling creatures of ancient lore."

Quinn decided not to dignify that remark with a response.

They settled into their chairs at the kitchen table in silence. They concentrated on building their fajitas, filling their soft tortillas with grilled chicken, with Santana adding green and red peppers, onions and shredded cheese, while Quinn opted for the shredded cheese only. Minutes passed. The silence deepened, neither girl speaking to the other.

Then, just when the silence was threatening to stretch to an uncomfortable length, Quinn said, "Yes, I do love you, even though you're rude, loud and often insulting. Now pass me the hot sauce. And _where _is the sour cream? You _do_ know you can't have fajitas without sour cream, right?"

"Jeez, you're cranky. It's right here," Santana replied, handing over first the bottle of hot sauce, then the container of sour cream. "And for the record, I'm not _insulting _anybody. I just keep it real, and you _know_ I'm hilarious. The sooner you admit it, the better off you'll be."

"Whatever. You're only here because you can cook." Quinn bit into her fajita and moaned, savoring all the combined flavors. "Oh my god, this is _so_ good!"

"Damn right it's good, Fabray. At least you acknowledge one facet of my supreme awesomeness."

"Shut up and eat, San."

Santana smirked again, internally celebrating her victory. "Whatever you say, Q."

After lunch, the hours passed in a maddeningly slow fashion. Santana had departed to her bedroom to study, while Quinn was trying to make a dent in her homework; but as she waited for Rachel to text her, it became more and more difficult for her to concentrate. She kept looking up at the clock on the kitchen wall, then down at her phone next to her open textbook, all the while trying to _will _the device to chime with that notification sound.

"You're sighing too loud, Fabray," Santana called from her bedroom into the silent stillness of the apartment. Neither girl liked to study with music on, finding it to be a major distraction.

Quinn bit back the angry retort she wanted to spit at her roommate and chose only to sigh again.

Then the sound Quinn had been waiting so anxiously to hear chimed, sounding impossibly high and shrill, causing her to scoot back in her chair, the action making the chair scrape across the floor, producing yet another annoying sound.

"Sorry," Quinn said. Her embarrassment disappeared, the frown disappearing from her face to be replaced once again by her 'Rachel smile' as she read the message.

_What's your favorite song? I would love to sing it for you, if it's in my repertoire._

Quinn considered this for a moment. Favorite song? That was a difficult question. There were so many songs she loved, so many that held a special meaning for her – how could she choose just one?

_That's very tough. I guess I could narrow it down to...three, maybe?_

_I could do that, as long as I know them._

Quinn smiled again, recalling again the first time she'd heard Rachel sing, remembering that the girl had performed more than a few familiar songs that day.

_If I recall correctly, you know more than show tunes._

_Yes. It is important to be versatile and able to sing multiple styles if one hopes to become a star on Broadway. I have many rock, pop and jazz standards in my repertoire, in addition to numerous songs from classic musicals._

After a few more moments' thought, Quinn finally chose the three songs she wanted to hear Rachel sing, and her excitement for the performance grew greater still. She furiously typed her requests into the next message, eager to see Rachel's response to them.

_These are excellent choices, Quinn. I'm really looking forward to singing them for you. We're about to be on our way, so you and Santana should get on the move yourselves as well._

_OK. We'll see you soon._

_Can't wait! The train is here. XOXO_

Santana burst out of her room in a frenzy, looking almost as though she were about to hyperventilate, just as Quinn was about to rush over and bang on her door.

"Brittany just texted me! We have to go! Come on, Q, get a move on here. Chop chop, let's go, let's go, let's go!"

Quinn crossed her arms and shot her best friend a glare, the effectiveness of which was greatly curtailed by her amused smirk.

"Q? Don't just stand there, come on!"

"_Who _is it that's been mooning over somebody around here?" Quinn asked. Her voice was pure ice.

"What?" Santana snapped. "Okay, so I _might_ have thought about Brittany once or twice, now and again, since we met her. But I haven't been moping around this place counting the hours and minutes until the next time I saw her, unlike you and the former Shire resident."

"Is that why your shirt is on backwards and you're still holding your bra in your hand?"

Santana looked down at herself, and then at the foundation garment clutched in her left hand.

"What the - ? Oh, fuck!"

Quinn laughed as Santana glared angrily at her, with not a single trace of amusement in her expression at all. She was all business, deadly serious now, and anyone other than Quinn would have been positively _terrified _by the murderous glint in Santana's dark eyes.

"If you even _think _about mentioning this to Brittany, I will _kill _the hobbit in front of you, and then I'll kill _you_ and drop both your fucking bodies into Mount Doom."

"At least they know how to dress themselves in the Shire."

"Screw you, Fabray. Just go and get ready for _Subway Station: The Musical_ already."

Quinn just laughed again as she sauntered into her own bedroom. She would send the video she'd just secretly recorded on her phone to Brittany later.


	10. Chapter 10

**and i will sing this magic (into the world)**

**chapter ten**

Rachel and Brittany bounce in their seats as the train rumbles along the underground track, each lost in her own thoughts, navigating through her own feelings about the meeting that is soon to take place. It feels _important, _somehow, fraught with portents, bearing the potential to change four lives at once. The silence is unusual for them, but the way they're holding each others' hands communicates everything they're not saying out loud anyway.

Rachel, for her part, is dealing with the unfamiliar sensation of feeling nervous, which she hasn't experienced in many years, not since she was a little girl stepping onto the stage for her first few singing competitions. Thousands of performances later, she usually feels a strange sort of calm excitement before the parting of a curtain, or the first swell of music, brings her out to face an audience. She feels serene and powerful at the same time, feeding off the emotion in the songs, the attention and applause of those watching. It doesn't matter whether she's in front of a crowd of tens or hundreds; the feeling is always the same, and she finds comfort in its familiar embrace.

This feeling is so unfamiliar, so alien to her, that Rachel doesn't even know how to process it. She doesn't feel _bad, _or even uncomfortable, really; just different, as though she's shed her old skin and is now clothed in new flesh.

Brittany, as always, is in a happy bubble. Life for her is all about finding the joy in every possible moment, every little experience. She has no time or use for anything that doesn't make her happy, and meeting Santana has made her happier than anything else has in a long time. Her body is all abuzz, humming with anticipation as she thinks about the dark-eyed, dark-haired girl who has captured her imagination and lit her dreams on fire practically since the moment they first saw each other. Santana is a mystery wrapped in a riddle inside an enigma, triggering Brittany's insatiable curiosity in a way no one ever has before. She knows the fascination is mutual, too. All she has to do is get close to Santana, and the rest will follow easily and naturally. It's the way things have always gone with Brittany.

No matter how deep inside their heads they've gone, though, the girls are in no danger of missing their stop. This is a regular Saturday afternoon destination for them; the only reason Brittany hadn't been with Rachel the last time was Lord Tubbington's misbehavior. Happily, the feline was in a much better mood today, so there had been no problem at all in getting ready and getting out, to Rachel's relief. She had been late for the last performance, and that would never be acceptable to her, regardless of the reason.

Suddenly, Rachel's phone buzzes twice, bringing her out of her reflective state. She smiles, seeing that Quinn has sent her two messages, then gasps as she takes in their contents: a picture of a Tony Award, followed by Quinn's caption: _This will be yours one day, and I'll be proud to say I knew you when you were just singing in the subway for your dinner._

"Oh, Quinn," Rachel whispers. She closes her eyes and wills herself not to start crying.

Brittany turns to look at her best friend, then glances down at the messages displayed on the phone. She smiles widely, squeezing Rachel's hand in shared happiness.

"Wow, that's really sweet," she says. "Looks like Quinn knows you pretty well already."

Rachel swallows back the happy tears that still threaten to fall. "Yes. It feels as though Quinn and I have always known each other, in a way. Or like we were destined to know each other."

Brittany nods in understanding. "I know what you mean."

Another buzz sounds, this time from Brittany's bag. She fishes around for a few moments, tongue curled over her upper lip in concentration, feeling for it - _bag of gummy worms...jar of lip gloss...pack of gum...phone! _\- before pulling it out with a soft "yay!" of triumph.

A message from Santana. Of course. She would never allow herself to be upstaged by Quinn.

_Hey Britt - why did the turkey cross the road? Because he was stapled to the chicken._

Brittany's hearty laugh barely registers with Rachel, who has retreated back into her own head, thinking about the songs she has planned to sing for Quinn. She always wants to give as close to a perfect performance as she possibly can, but now her desire is to go beyond perfection, if such a thing is possible. She wants to give a performance that will transcend anything she has ever done before.

Her voice is her gift, and she wants to give it to Quinn.

Before they know it, the train slows to their final stop. The doors open, and the girls gather Rachel's equipment and head up to the open area that Rachel has come to think of as her performance space. Brittany notices the unusual tension in the set of Rachel's shoulders, the tight line of her mouth, and it is clear to her that something is up with her best friend.

"Hey," she says, catching Rachel's attention. "You're not actually worried about this performance, are you? You're gonna kill it, just like always. You're Rachel Berry, future Broadway superstar. This is what you do – what you were born to do."

Rachel smiles thinly. It's not her usual mega-watt show smile. It's more of a grim, determined, focused smile. There's something in her that's coiled, barely contained, something beyond anything the small singer has ever unleashed before an audience before. Seeing this, Brittany knows that the unsuspecting people here today are going to hear and see something truly amazing, something they'll never forget.

But even Brittany doesn't know that today is the day that Rachel Berry will take her first real steps toward becoming a true, bona fide star.

Quinn and Santana arrive not too much later. Santana is unusually quiet and anxious, eyes constantly darting around as though Brittany is about to pop up out of nowhere. She's been edgy and fidgety the entire ride here, and Quinn has suppressed the desire to say something calm and reassuring to her best friend. She knows what this is, although she's only seen it a couple of times before. This is the way Santana gets when she really likes someone, and all of the insecurities that she keeps hidden away behind her sharp-tongued bravado, locked deep down inside, escape to the surface. She's plagued with self-doubt, wondering if Brittany really likes her, or if the girl is just pretending so that she won't feel like a third wheel when Quinn and Rachel start getting all couple-y.

Quinn, for her part, is surprisingly calm, although she had expected to feel just the opposite. Her emotions have crystallized, solidified with certainly. She knows there's something special happening between herself and Rachel, and the more she thinks about it, the more her excitement over it grows. It's not something she ever imagined happening to her, meeting someone randomly and finding that her world has been changed completely, irrevocably, as a result. No matter what else happens, she knows that having Rachel in her life, even for this short time, has already changed her. Once again, she hums the song that's been in her head all day:

_Because I knew you – I have been changed for good._

"Come on, San. Pick up the pace. Rachel won't wait for us forever," she chides gently, taking Santana by the hand and pulling her along as they walk up the stairs. Quinn's step has an extra spring in it; Santana, on the other hand, is moving as though she's struggling against quicksand.

Santana huffs and her brows furrow in annoyance, but she says nothing, allowing herself to be led by her suddenly exuberant roommate.

When they get out into the open area, there see that there are already a few curious onlookers watching Rachel and Brittany set up the microphone, music stand and amplifier. Quinn sighs with relief, happy that she hasn't missed a single note. She's still dragging Santana behind her, and then suddenly her roommate's step finally quickens as Brittany comes bounding up to them.

"Hi guys! I'm so glad you're here," she says, throwing her arms first around Quinn, who returns the tight, affectionate hug with equal enthusiasm, and then around Santana, who lets out a surprised _whoof _at the strength of Brittany's embrace. Quinn chuckles at the way Santana's eyes pop out just a little before her lids close and she melts into the hug, clearly relishing the feel of Brittany's lithe body against her own. When Santana's eyes open again after Brittany releases her, she pouts at the loss of contact, then glares at Quinn's amused expression.

"Rachel's deep into her pre-performance psyche-up mode," Brittany says quietly as she guides them to where the little diva's ruffling through the lyric sheets arranged on the music stand. "That's why she's got that really intense face on. You can go over and talk to her, but just know that she's only going to half-listen to whatever you're saying, because she's running over the songs in her head for the last time before her set starts."

"The little hobbit really takes performing in a subway station that seriously?" Santana cracks. _Aaaaand she's back._ "I don't know whether to be impressed or frightened."

Brittany fixes her with a stern look. "Don't call her that. She's a professional, even if no one's hired her yet. She works really hard at this, 'cause she wants to be the best. She always says, _today it might be the subway station, but tomorrow it might be Broadway. _I've learned a lot from her, and I can tell you honestly that I wouldn't be where I am today if it weren't for Rachel's example."

Santana's jaw drops. Very few people have ever dressed her down the way Brittany just did. Fewer still have ever managed to make her feel remorse or shame over something she's said, and yet now she feels compelled to say the one word she hates above all others in the English language:

"Sorry."

Quinn hides her laugh with a hand over her mouth. Brittany beams. When she touches Santana's arm, her anger and embarrassment over being admonished by the blonde dancer disappears, and she smiles back. "Oh, no worries. Come on, say hi to Rachel before she gets started."

Rachel looks up from the music stand and sees the trio of friends coming toward her. Her face lights up when Quinn waves and smiles. She returns the wave, bouncing back and forth on her heels, smoothing down her long, flowing skirt and tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

"Hi, Rachel," Quinn says, her voice low and breathy. "You look beautiful. Glamorous, like a star."

Rachel hugs her, and Quinn's limbs turn to jelly. "Thank you so much for coming. It means so much to me that you're here."

"There's nowhere else I'd rather be," Quinn murmurs into Rachel's ear, and she feels the smaller girl tremble ever so slightly in her arms.

Reluctantly, Rachel gently but firmly pushes herself away from Quinn. Quinn doesn't miss the blush on her face, knows her own face is pink with heat. She desperately wants to gather Rachel into her arms again, but she knows it's almost showtime, and she really doesn't want to be any more of a distraction.

Santana grips Quinn's arm and says, "Come on. Let the diva finish preparing so she can get her show on in the manner to which she is accustomed."

Quinn blinks at her. Santana rolls her eyes. "Yeah, I know how to speak the Queen's English and shit. I just don't, most of the time. Now, seriously, lets back up off Rachel and give her some room to breathe here."

Brittany beams at Santana, who winks in response. "Well, look who's finally gotten over her anxiety attack," Quinn says tartly, eyebrow raised for full effect.

"Shut up, Q."

The crowd has grown, and Rachel looks at her watch. Taking a deep breath, she closes her eyes and counts to twenty. _It's time._

"Hello and good afternoon, everyone. My name is Rachel Berry. I'm a Musical Theater / Vocal Performance major at the New York Academy for Dramatic Arts, or NYADA for short, and it will be my pleasure to sing for you today..."

Quinn had thought the performance she'd seen the other week was extraordinary, but this...this was otherworldly. Rachel has brought herself to another level, and it's breathtaking to watch her. She couldn't tear her eyes away if she wanted to, which she _definitely_ doesn't want to do, thanks to the plunging V of Rachel's wine-colored dress's neckline, and the generous slit up the side of the long skirt, which exposes a good deal of tanned, toned, perfectly shaped leg. Besides that, though, the girl's voice was simply flawless. Her range is phenomenal, her tone absolutely perfect, and goodness, the power! _God, she's incredible, _Quinn thinks. She is simply spellbinding, and everyone who walks by stops in their tracks, held in thrall by the magic of the enormous voice that comes out of Rachel's small body.

Even Santana's jaw drops at several points during the first song alone. "Damn, Q," she whispers in Quinn's ear between songs. "I mean, I know you said she was good, but I honestly never thought she could possibly be, y'know, _this _good."

Brittany, whose cat-like hearing enables her to catch Santana's quietly stated admission, smiles an uncharacteristically smug smile at the two friends next to her and says simply, "She's just getting started. Trust me, you haven't heard _anything_ yet."

Meanwhile, just below them, another train pulls in, and a passenger tumbles out of it unsteadily, wobbling on her too-high heels for a moment before managing to focus her bleary eyes on the stairs leading upward and away from the platform.

Her name is April Rhodes, one-time big shot agent to the stars, now reduced to trying to salvage her career by hooking up with a fledgling agency run by two newcomers to the business. She's tipsy after another morning-into-afternoon in the bar, only vaguely cognizant of where she is or where she's trying to go. It's been another lost weekend so far, and all she wants to do now is find her way back to her bed, and the tall bottle of Scotch on the nightstand next to it. She knows it's out there, that one voice that's going turn her luck around, but she's damned if she can even guess at where it might be found, and she's just too tired to keep searching at this point.

And then she hears it, this amazing young female voice, emerging out of nowhere, cutting through the fog in her brain. Powerful, brimming with pure emotion, yet possessed of a precision and control she's only heard a handful of times in her life. Her eyes widen and her ears perk up. Where _is_ this girl? Where? _Where?_

_Upstairs._ She hiccups, adjusts the collar of her white shirt, tucks the side of it that's come untucked back into her skin-tight white pants and steels herself for the daunting task before her: getting up the stairs without falling back down and possibly breaking something, like her tailbone. _Ouch. Yeah, that would suck, breaking your tailbone. Definitely don't want to do that._

April leans over the handrail, grasping it like it's a lifeline, using her hands and arms to pull the rest of her body up the stairs. It's not pretty or graceful, two things she thinks she used to be, although maybe she's still pretty, at least. Gets the job done, though, and with every step, the angelic voice that's singing grows clearer and louder. Her skin prickles with goosebumps, and her spine arches with a chill that starts at her neck and goes all the way down.

She turns her head, trying to get a look at the girl who's singing, but the crowd is too thick, and her diminutive stature doesn't afford her the ability to see over all those heads. So she decides to thread her way through the crush of spectators as gently as she can, which will not be easy in her condition - but hey, she's done harder things in her life. Like star in an all-white production of _The Wiz _back when she was in high school, for example.

The song ends, and the girl speaks to the audience in a voice that's somehow at once shy and confident.

"This next song is for a very special person who's become very important to me in a very short span of time. She told me this is one of her favorite songs, so I hope I do an extra-good job of singing it today."

The voice is plaintive, but defiant, each word shaped with love and conviction.

_You're not alone ~ Together we stand  
I'll be by your side ~ You know I'll take your hand  
When it gets cold ~ And it feels like the end  
There's no place to go ~ You know I won't give in  
No, I won't give in_

The chorus is sung with strength and determination, rising in volume, but never losing the emotion.

_Keep holding on  
Cause you know we'll make it through ~ We'll make it through  
Just stay strong _

_Cause you know I'm here for you ~ I'm here for you  
There's nothing you can say  
Nothing you can do  
There's no other way when it comes to the truth  
So, keep holding on  
Cause you know we'll make it through  
We'll make it through _

The next verse starts out soft, almost wistful. Every single soul in the place is moved by how deeply felt the words seem to be.

_So far away ~ I wish you were here  
Before it's too late ~ This could all disappear  
Before the door's closed ~ And it comes to an end  
With you by my side ~ I will fight and defend  
I'll fight and defend, yeah, yeah_

The defiant attitude returns by the end of the verse, and the girl's voice soars into the chorus.

_Keep holding on _

_Cause you know we'll make it through ~ We'll make it through  
Just stay strong  
Cause you know I'm here for you ~ I'm here for you  
There's nothing you can say  
Nothing you can do  
There's no other way when it comes to the truth  
So, keep holding on  
Cause you know we'll make it through ~ We'll make it through _

April's progress through the crowd is slow, but steady, and she finally gets her first glimpse of the girl who's singing: she's short, barely over five feet – something to which April can relate, she thinks wryly to herself – and her long, dark hair cascades in soft waves onto and past her shoulders. Her large, expressive eyes are deep chocolate pools of swirling emotion. Her mouth twists with feeling when she sings the next lines.

_Hear me when I say, when I say I believe  
Nothing's gonna change, nothing's gonna change destiny  
Whatever's meant to be will work out perfectly  
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah  
La da da da, la da da da  
La da da da da da da da da_

It sounds like a call to arms, like victory, when the girl drives the chorus into the stratosphere one more time.

_Keep holding on  
Cause you know we'll make it through ~ We'll make it through  
Just stay strong  
Cause you know I'm here for you ~ I'm here for you  
There's nothing you can say ~ Nothing you can do  
There's no other way when it comes to the truth  
So, keep holding on  
Cause you know we'll make it through  
We'll make it through _

There are tears freely streaming down the singer's face now, and when she gets to the last lines, her voice is barely above a ragged whisper, yet somehow there's still a spine of iron in it.

_Ahh, ahh  
Keep holding on  
Ahh, ahh  
Keep holding on  
There's nothing you can say ~ Nothing you can do  
There's no other way when it comes to the truth  
So, keep holding on  
Cause you know we'll make it through  
We'll make it through  
We'll make it through _

The crowd stands in stunned silence for a moment, as though unable to believe what they've just seen and heard. April scans the faces of some of the people around her; there's not a dry eye to be seen. She's surprised to find her own cheeks wet with tears she hadn't even realized she'd shed. Then the thunder of applause replaces the silence. A happy laugh bursts forth from the crying girl at the microphone, and she says, "That was for you, Quinn. I hope you liked it."

Quinn feels as though her heart has been gently removed from her body, then kissed, caressed and wrapped in a silken blanket before being placed back into her chest. If there had been even the tiniest shred of doubt as to how she felt about Rachel, and how Rachel felt about her, it's been blown away like a withered leaf in an autumn wind. She catches Santana wiping her eyes too, but says nothing as Brittany pulls her close and lets her rest her head on a strong shoulder.

The next few songs pass by in a blur for Quinn, until she hears Rachel mention her name again when introducing the next one she's going to sing.

"So this one is another of Quinn's favorites, and it's one of mine as well. I'd like to dedicate it not only to her, but to her best friend and roommate Santana, and my best friend and roommate Brittany. In fact, if they would be so kind, I'd like them to come up here and sing this song with me." She turns away from the microphone as her shocked friends walk over to her, then gives them their instructions quickly.

"I know you all know it very well. Quinn, you take the second verse; Britt, you take the third verse. Then, Quinn, you'll take the little interlude section, and Santana, you bring it home with the angels and the choir and all that. Okay? Okay."

Satisfied, Rachel smiles sweetly, claps her hands and turns back to the microphone, but before she can speak, Santana says, "Rachel, how do you even know I can sing?"

"Quinn's told me a lot about you," the singer replies, and then the music starts and there's no more time to speak.

[Rachel]

_Give me a second I,  
I need to get my story straight  
My friends are in the bathroom getting higher than the Empire State  
My lover she's waiting for me just across the bar  
My seat's been taken by some sunglasses asking about a scar, and_

[Quinn]_  
I know I gave it to you months ago  
I know you're trying to forget  
But between the drinks and subtle things  
The holes in my apologies, you know  
I'm trying hard to take it back_

[All]

_Tonight, we are young  
So let's set the world on fire  
We can burn brighter than the sun_

_Tonight, we are young  
So let's set the world on fire  
We can burn brighter than the sun  
_

[Rachel, Quinn]_  
So if by the time the bar closes  
And you feel like falling down  
I'll carry you home tonight_

_So if by the time the bar closes  
And you feel like falling down, I'll carry you home_

[All]

_Tonight, we are young  
So let's set the world on fire  
We can burn brighter than the sun_

_Tonight, we are young  
So let's set the world on fire  
We can burn brighter than the sun  
_

[Brittany]_  
Now I know that I'm not  
All that you got, I guess that I, I just thought  
Maybe we could find new ways to fall apart  
But our friends are back  
So let's raise a tab  
'Cause I found someone to carry me home  
_

[All]

_Tonight, we are young  
So let's set the world on fire  
We can burn brighter than the sun  
_

_Tonight, we are young  
So let's set the world on fire  
We can burn brighter than the sun  
_

[Quinn]_  
Carry me home tonight (Na na na na na na)  
Just carry me home tonight (Na na na na na na)  
Carry me home tonight (Na na na na na na)  
Just carry me home tonight (Na na na na na na)  
_

[Santana]_  
The world is on my side  
I have no reason to run  
So will someone come and carry me home tonight  
The angels never arrived  
But I can hear the choir  
So will someone come and carry me home_

[All]

_Tonight, we are young  
So let's set the world on fire  
We can burn brighter than the sun_

_Tonight, we are young  
So let's set the world on fire  
We can burn brighter than the sun  
_

[Rachel, Quinn]_  
So if by the time the bar closes  
And you feel like falling down  
I'll carry you home tonight_

The four girls laugh and hug as the crowd applauds again. April had sung along softly herself, forgetting her role as a professional observer and just going along with the music.

Quinn could not remember the last time she'd felt so free, so exhilarated. Rachel's joy and laughter is so infectious that she can't stop smiling. She holds Santana's left hand while Brittany has linked her pinky with the pinky on Santana's right hand, and they both look as happy as Quinn feels. Rachel's smile is so wide it's threatening to slide right off her face.

"Okay!" she says, clapping her hands. "That ends the audience participation portion of the show." The crowd laughs. She's had them in the palm of her hand since the beginning. "Next I would like to sing several Broadway classics for you..."

April stares in disbelief and complete amazement as Rachel proceeds to completely kill it on _Send in the Clowns, Memory _and an especially spirited rendition of _Don't Rain on My Parade. _She's wondering where in the world this girl came from when she realizes that she's speaking again.

"Thank you all so very much for allowing me to perform for you today. It's been an honor and a privilege. I would like to end my set today with another song for Quinn. I know, I know, I must be embarrassing you by now, and I'm sorry, I really am, but I _did _only ask you for _one_ favorite song and you gave me _three, _so..."

Quinn blushes bright red as the crowd laughs again. Santana playfully tap-punches her on the arm and Brittany feeds Santana a gummy worm from the bag in her purse.

It's been a pretty perfect afternoon so far.

The familiar opening notes of Cyndi Lauper's _True Colors _waft into the air, and Rachel closes her eyes as she begins to sing. Quinn's breath hitches; it's a song that's gotten her through a lot of lonely days and sleepless nights, and to hear Rachel sing it is almost more than she can bear. Her heart clenches when Rachel belts out the chorus:

_I see your true colors shining through ~ I see your true colors_

_And that's why I love you_

_So don't be afraid ~ To let them show_

_Your true colors ~ Your true colors_

_Your true colors are beautiful ~ Like a rainbow..._

The crowd whoops and cheers and whistles erupt, high and piercing, out of the low thunder of its applause. April hopes no one's noticed that it's her with her fingers in her mouth, emitting the loudest, highest-pitched whistle imaginable.

"Thank you all again, so much, for sticking around for my little show. My name, in case you missed it, is Rachel Berry, and if you liked what you heard, I'll be back again next week so you can hear more of it. In the meantime, please get home safely and enjoy the rest of the weekend."

The crowd breaks up, shuffles off. A few come up to Rachel to tell her how much they enjoyed her set and promise to return to hear again sometime, maybe even next week. Rachel accepts the praise gracefully, smiling her mega-watt smile, looking more pleased than Quinn's ever seen her.

Before Quinn can step towards Rachel, her arms absolutely aching to hold the small singer, a short blonde haired woman bursts forward out of the dissipating crowd and thrusts her hand out

for Rachel to shake.

"Hiya kid," she says, and there's only the barest trace of her previously intoxicated state in her speech, for which she is grateful. Rachel accepts the handshake offer and responds, slightly puzzled by this wisp of a woman who looks like a cross between Tinkerbell and a Q-Tip. "I'm sorry, but you are...?"

April produces her wallet from her purse, pulls what appears to be a business card from it, and makes a great show of flourishing it toward the young singer.

Rachel accepts the handshake and the business card, and April smiles sweetly as she says, "Kid, you've got a great career ahead of you, and to achieve your fullest potential, you're going to need someone to represent you so that you get the best possible deals, whether it's on Broadway, on TV or the movies. It would be an honor for us and a blessing for you if you chose us to be your agents. April Rhodes at your service here, with the Clean Schues talent agency."

Quinn looks over Rachel's shoulder to read the card, then observes the agent's flushed countenance. She's seen the kind of worn, haunted expression and almost-but-not-quite fake smile she's wearing many times before, and she knows instantly what this woman was doing before she got here.

It's the same look she's seen on her own mother's face far too many times.

Santana recognizes it as well, and she squeezes Quinn's hand, knowing the pain her best friend is feeling at this moment. The memories make her heart ache too.

Rachel, of course, doesn't know any of this; her face betrays a myriad of emotions in a matter of seconds. Confusion and uncertainty are quickly followed by shock, amazement and finally, pure happiness. She gasps, then squeals, and finally laughs out loud. Brittany hugs her even as Quinn and Santana remain lost in their own shared memories.

April watches the interactions between the four girls; she can see the wary protectiveness in the shorter blonde's expression, the guilt and anger in the tight, suspicious look on the Latina girl's face. They don't trust her. She can't really blame them, but on the other hand, they don't know how hard she's been trying to get things right in this last difficult year.

Rachel, on the other hand, is beaming at her as though she's just met Santa Claus, Barbra Streisand and the President of the United States all at once. Tears are flowing from her eyes once again, and she says quietly, in a small voice that's the complete opposite of the powerful one that had filled this place only a few minutes before, "You...you really want me? Really?"

"Do I – _we – _want you?" April chuckles, shaking her head at how adorable this girl is. "Kid, I've been looking for you my whole career. Yes, of course! Look, I've got to go now – it's happy hour somewhere, don't you know – but you can expect a call from my bosses, Will Schuester and Emma Pillsbury, on Monday. I saw a bunch of people recording this little show on their phones,

so I'm pretty sure you're already being uploaded to YouTube as we speak, and I'd be willing to bet that you've got your own channel there anyway, so I can tell you it's a sure thing that they're going to be chomping at the bit to get your name on a contract before someone else comes sniffing around here. You want to be the next big thing, kid? You're on your way, starting now."

"Oh my God! I can't believe this is happening!" Rachel cries, her small body vibrating with excitement. She grabs April by the arms, effectively immobilizing her, and looks her directly in the eye. "I'm going to hug you now. Okay?"

"Okay, darlin'. Come here," April says, smiling. The girl doesn't need to be told twice, and she launches herself at April to wrap her body up in a fierce embrace.

Keeping her eyes open, April doesn't miss the hard looks being shot at her by Quinn, Santana and Brittany. _I'll have to stay on my toes with these three around,_ she thinks. _Good_. _Too many youngsters don't have anyone watching their backs in this business._ _God knows I didn't when I first started out._ _And it nearly cost me everything._

Rachel releases April from her hold and wipes her eyes. "Thank you," she says. "Thank you so, so much."

"Someone was bound to find you sooner or later, kid. I'm just glad it was me. Now, remember: make sure you're by the phone on Monday morning, okay? I've gotta go. We'll be in touch." She nods to the girls standing with Rachel. "Nice meeting y'all. Take care now."

And with that, April Rhodes turns and walks away, feeling truly happy for the first time in she doesn't even know how long. She's not really sure where she's going from here, but she hardly cares at this point. Things are finally looking up.

Quinn watches the woman go, shaking her head at the still present wobble in her step. She's not really sure how she feels about all this, but decides to put her worries aside for now, seeing Rachel so happy and excited, jumping up and down in Brittany's arms once again.

Santana puts her arm around her shoulders. "Don't worry, Quinn. We'll run a background check on these people and make sure they're legit before anybody signs anything. Nobody's gonna take advantage of your girl except you," she says, suggestively raising her eyebrows and smirking that ridiculous smirk of hers.

Quinn's about to respond to her best friend's implication when Rachel touches her hand, instantly refocusing her attention on the little diva.

"Quinn?" she asks in a quiet voice. "You...you haven't said anything. Are you okay?"

"Me? Of course I am. I'm sorry – I didn't mean to worry you. I'm just..."

"Just what?""

Quinn takes a deep breath. She's not going to darken this moment for Rachel. Yes, she has her concerns, but now is not the time to discuss them. Now is the time for them to be happy, to celebrate, and to be proud of what Rachel has achieved.

"Just...really, really happy for you, Rachel. This is amazing! I'm so proud of you," she exclaims, pulling Rachel into her arms for a tender hug.

"You're like a good luck charm, Quinn," Rachel says, her face buried in Quinn's shoulder. And then she pulls away slightly, looks up into Quinn's hazel eyes. Her lips are glistening and her hair is shining and Quinn's pretty sure she's never seen anyone look more beautiful than Rachel does right now.

Suddenly, the world melts away, and there's only a pair of warm little hands fisted in her shirt, a supple body pressed against her own and two impossibly deep chocolate eyes swirling with emotion looking up at her. She can only hear her own heart beating in time with Rachel's, the slow rise and fall of their breathing, and she finds their mouths being drawn together, their lips barely brushing against each other at first, then pressing lightly, as if testing their strength.

The pressure increases, and Quinn feels as though she's floating, spinning slowly in air. Her fingers curl, her hands grasping at Rachel's slender waist. Rachel's lips are so warm, so soft, but unyielding, unrelenting. A pink tongue pokes out between them and slips into Quinn's mouth, twisting, turning, stealing her breath. She's delirious with pleasure. Her heart is pounding, her lungs are burning, her limbs are trembling and aching.

It's the most delicious pain Quinn has ever experienced in her life, and she never wants it to end.

**Disclaimer: I don't own "Glee" or any of the songs mentioned in this chapter. **


	11. Chapter 11

**and I will sing this magic (into the world)**

**chapter eleven**

After bringing all of Rachel's equipment back to her and Brittany's place and enjoying a long, loud celebratory dinner at one of Rachel's favorite restaurants in the area, the girls decide to go back to Quinn and Santana's place for a sleep-over. From the time they sit down in the subway car, Rachel and Quinn never stop touching each other. Holding hands, kissing fingertips, the backs of hands, cheeks, lips, even a stolen nip at the pulse point here and there. The smiles they share are the brightest and widest their best friends have ever seen either one of them wear; their happiness is like a bright, warm glow, a radiance that stuns Brittany and Santana with its brilliance. It's dazzling, infectious, and completely contagious, and the entire train car is filled with the light – not that either of them notices.

"I've never seen Quinn like this," Santana whispers to Brittany. "She's not what you'd call the most emotionally open person, but with Rachel, it's like...it's like she's a completely different girl."

Brittany nods, blows a bubble, smiles when it pops, eliciting a chuckle from Santana. Her face takes on a thoughtful expression, as though she's considering her next words with great care.

"Rachel has that effect on people," she says. "I've never known anybody whose walls she couldn't break down. She's just so warm, and honest, and genuine, and she cares so much. If Rachel wants to be your friend, nothing will stop her from finding a way to do it. And then once she's your friend, she's your friend forever, and she'll do absolutely anything for you. When you need help, there's no one better to have in your corner than Rachel."

Santana thinks about this. If anyone ever needed someone like Rachel, it was Quinn. Santana had done as much as she could for Quinn over the years, but her own personality had rough edges that she'd never been able to sand down, and that fact as much as anything had rendered her unable to be as effective a best friend as she'd wanted to be. She thinks back to all the times when Quinn had needed to be held quietly, but the anger in Santana had made her rant loudly instead, because that was what Santana needed to do, and she just couldn't put that aside to give Quinn what she required. The softer touch often eluded Santana, and that was something she truly regretted.

Rachel, she realizes, is the kind of person who would know exactly what Quinn needed, when she needed it, and would give it freely, without hesitation. She would always put the sad, broken blonde's needs before her own no matter what.

Looking at Brittany, she's struck by the depth of the girl's insight. It's easy to assume, based on her free and easy manner, her childlike enthusiasm, that she's just another stereotypically ditzy blonde, but Santana is beginning to see that there's a lot more to Brittany than that, and she can't help but feel intrigued.

When Brittany allows her to lace their fingers together and smiles at her, she feels a little of what she imagines Quinn and Rachel are feeling too.

It's a strange feeling for Quinn, this being happy business. It's been so long since she's felt anything like this, she's just assumed her capacity for it had atrophied, wasted away from long disuse. But no – it's still there, just waiting to be reactivated, and now it's back in spades. It's absolutely glorious, like floating on a cloud - _above_ the clouds, even - and somewhere in the back of her mind, Quinn marvels at how weightless she feels, like her bones are hollow, or made of light. Every time Rachel touches her, kisses her, smiles, laughs, even just so much as _looks _at her, she feels a new wave of bliss rush through her body, and she wonders if it's actually possible to die of happiness.

If so, she'll take it. What better way to go?

All she knows is that Rachel has become a thirst, a craving, an addiction for her now, one that she can never allow to go unsatisfied, or she would surely suffer unspeakable withdrawal pains. She feels transformed, like a butterfly emerged from a decade's worth of sleep in its cocoon, suddenly awake and alive in an entirely different world from the one she had known before.

"Rachel," she moans, quite unaware that she's spoken aloud. Even her voice sounds different to her now, deeper and huskier, charged with inflections she hadn't known existed before.

"Quinn," comes Rachel's response, panting and breathless. "I fear that if we don't calm ourselves down a little bit, we might break several public indecency laws, and as much as I'm enjoying this, I'd rather not have to explain it to my fathers when I have to call them for bail money."

"Call them? Just use the money you made today. No one else has to know."

Rachel giggles. "Quinn! I tell my dads everything. I couldn't hide anything from them if I tried." She pauses. "I told them about you."

"You did? Told them...what, exactly?" Quinn blushes at the thought of Rachel talking about her with her dads. She wonders how – or _if – _she'll be able to tell her mother about Rachel.

"That I met this _amazing_ girl in the subway and have very quickly come to realize that I have...more than friendly feelings for her."

Quinn blushes harder, blinks, swallows. "You...you _do? _Have – have feelings...for _me?" _This is it. She's sure of it now. She's about to die, and ascend up to whatever fluffy cloud is reserved for people who pass away after ingesting far too much happiness.

"I would have thought that would be clear by now, given what we've been doing." She looks over at Brittany and Santana, suddenly aware of their presence. They're happily chatting away as though they've known each other all their lives, and Rachel's glad that they've hit it off so well.

"Britt?" Rachel asks. She doesn't really want to interrupt, but there's a question that needs to be answered. "What's the next stop?"

Blushing, Brittany shrugs and replies, "I'm not sure. I think ours is coming up soon, though."

Shaking her head, a little angry with herself for not paying better attention, Rachel peers out the window of the subway car, trying to reorient her senses and figure out how close or far away they are from their stop. The train slows down, pulls to a stop. Things become visible, and Rachel breathes a huge sigh of relief when she sees it's the second to last stop before theirs.

"Good memory, Britt." She turns to her best friend and smiles. "I knew you wouldn't forget."

"No problem whatsoever," Brittany beams back at Rachel. When Rachel, satisfied, turns her attention back to Quinn, Brittany smirks at Santana, who looks puzzled. She leans in close to Santana and whispers, "Actually, I totally did forget. Rachel never does, though - even when she thinks she might have."

Santana has to cover her mouth with both hands to keep from laughing out loud.

Finally, they emerge from the subway into the New York City night, illuminated by natural and man-made lights. It's been an exhilarating and exhausting day, one they'll never forget, and the girls aren't ready for it to end just yet. The conversation is light, the smiles are exuberant, and they're on top of the world.

When they get to the long hallway that leads to Quinn and Santana's place, they stop in their tracks at the sight of several figures camped outside the door.

"_Blaine?! Mercedes?! Tina?!_" Quinn exclaims, confusion and bewilderment evident in her voice. She looks back at Rachel, who's walking behind her and nearly bumps into her back when she stops short, and shoots her a frantic look of apology.

"What the hell are you three losers doing here?" Santana barks. She's not happy at the idea of anyone or anything interrupting the alone time she was expecting to have with Brittany, and as always, not at all hesitant to let it show. She storms forward, half-dragging Brittany with her, not realizing that their fingers are still tightly laced together.

"Santana." Brittany says firmly, pulling her back with uncanny strength. "Calm down and be _nice_."

The dark-haired beauty deflates, but her voice is still acid when she addresses the waiting trio. "Well? I don't remember inviting anybody over for poker tonight, so let me repeat: what the hell are you doing here?"

The young man with slicked-back hair, a sweater vest, a bowtie and insanely tight capri pants smiles pleasantly at the rest of the group before focusing his attention on Santana.

"And hello to you too, Santana," he deadpans. "We tried calling and texting you, but you never answered – and now I see why. New friends?"

"Yes. Sorry, Blaine," Quinn says before Santana can reply. "It's been a very busy day, but that's no excuse for ignoring you."

Standing on either side of Blaine are a pretty, heavy-set black girl in black jeans, white high-top sneakers and a T-shirt emblazoned with the words "Love Yourself," and an equally attractive Asian girl in a checkerboard patterned 60s style mini-dress and black knee-high boots. It's the black girl who speaks up first.

"Hey, Quinn. Yeah, we didn't really mean to have a camp-out here, but we needed to get a hold of Santana somehow," she says, smiling at Quinn. "You gonna introduce us to your girls here or what?"

Rachel steps out from behind Quinn, hand thrust forward, her "happy to meet you" smile in full effect.

"Hello! I'm Rachel Berry. Very pleased to make your acquaintance."

"Mercedes Jones," says the black girl. She shakes Rachel's hand, grinning. "Hair gel boy over here is Blaine Anderson -" She releases the hand to point at the boy, who frowns at her description, then points at the girl next to her. "And this is my girl Tina Cohen-Chang."

Blaine and Tina each shake Rachel's hand, and she positively beams at the attention. Brittany affectionately rolls her eyes as she watches her best friend; she knows that Rachel's ability to thrive in the spotlight is one of the things that's going to make her a star.

"It's very nice to meet you, Rachel," Tina offers quietly, while Blaine's smile is warm and friendly. Instantly, Rachel assesses the trio: Blaine comes off as calm and confident, while Tina is a little on the shy side, and Mercedes is sassy and brassy and completely unapologetic about it.

Rachel turns and beckons to Brittany, who happily bounces over to be introduced, as she has been so many times before. "And this is my best friend and roommate, Brittany S. Pierce. She attends NYADA with me as a dance major, while I myself am a vocal performance major with a concentration in musical theater."

Tina is the first to receive the Brittany hug treatment; Rachel winces at the inevitable _whoof _of air that follows. Mercedes is next, and finally Blaine has the pleasure of having his ribs crushed by Brittany's happy embrace.

"Good..to...meet you...Brittany," Blaine wheezes. "Nice...grip...you've got...there."

Rachel shrugs. "I apologize. I should have warned you all. Brittany is very strong."

Santana is heard to laugh. Quinn admonishes her in a sharp, disapproving whisper. Keys clank and jingle together, and the two locks on the door click open.

"All right, girls and boy. Let's take this party inside, shall we?" Santana says lightly, still amused by Brittany's gentle assault on her friends. She's still annoyed with them for showing up this way - even if they _did_ try to call and text first – so they deserve a little pain, as far as she's concerned. Serves them right.

They file inside, three still rubbing at their sore ribs, two walking hand in hand and lost in each other's smile once again, the last bouncing with excitement at making more new friends, and the door closes behind Santana, not quietly.


	12. Chapter 12

**and i will sing this magic (into the world)**

**chapter twelve**

The students all settle into seats at the kitchen table, except for Quinn, who plops down onto an oversized bean bag chair in the living area that she had found at a flea market back home years ago and can't bear to throw out, despite Santana's avowed hatred for it. Rachel and Brittany busy themselves by brewing coffee and heating water for tea as Santana glares at her classmates expectantly.

"So, Warbler, Wheezy, Asian Fusion," she begins, using the nicknames she'd coined for them when they had met for the very first time. "What's so important that you all needed to descend upon my door like a bunch of very weirdly dressed birds?"

Tina and Mercedes roll their eyes and look to Blaine to serve as their spokesperson. His expression clearly pleads for them to spare him, to no avail. He gives his classmates a sarcastic shrug as if to say, "thanks a lot,' then clears his throat.

"Well, uh okay - Santana, there's an emergency Glee Club meeting scheduled for tomorrow morning at ten o'clock sharp, and Professor Corcoran says attendance is mandatory," Blaine says, tapping his fingers nervously against the table top.

"That means you need to actually wake up when your alarm goes off," Quinn deadpans from the safety of her familiar bean bag.

Santana snaps her head around to turn her venomous glare upon her best friend. "I'll deal with you later, Princess Prissy Pants. Right now I've got business to handle."

"By all means, handle away," Quinn replies, smiling innocently, amused at how irked Santana is by their friends' unexpected appearance. She laughs when Santana sticks her tongue out at her. "I'll just be over here, waiting to be dealt with."

Mercedes and Tina cover their mouths with their hands to hide their laughter at how easily Quinn handles her roommate. No one else has the ability to take the air out of Santana's sails the way Quinn does. Rachel and Brittany pretend to be oblivious, retrieving mugs from the cupboards and arranging them on the counter, but shake their heads at the exchange all the same.

"Oh, you _will _be dealt with, I promise. Trust," Santana mutters, returning her attention back to Blaine, who still looks profoundly uncomfortable. "Now, what is this about a" - she lifts her hands to make air quotes with her fingers - "_mandatory _meeting? Since when are extracurricular activities mandatory? Why can't it wait until we have our usual meeting?"

Blaine's mouth tightens into a grimace. "Because the club needs _help, _Santana. We're a competitive singing and dancing group with a couple of members who can't actually sing or dance very well. So Professor Corcoran says we need to get as much rehearsal time in as possible going forward if we want to have any shot at Sectionals."

"I think her head might explode if she watches Finn stumble into somebody one more time," Tina says, gesturing with her hands to mime their teacher's head doing just that.

Mercedes laughs, nodding her head ruefully in agreement. "Seriously, that boy's got a nice enough voice, but he can _not _dance."

Groaning, Santana lowers her head, closing her eyes and pinching the bridge of her nose with two fingers as though attempting to ward off a sinus headache. "_Ay, dios mio. _Whose bright idea was it to let him and Sugar join, anyway?"

"Ms. Corcoran says that the Glee Club is all about being inclusive and helping people to better themselves by expressing themselves in song," Tina supplies helpfully, only to shrink back when Santana raises her head and glares at her even more viciously than before. Mercedes pats the Asian girl's shoulder to comfort her, secretly grateful not to be the recipient of that murderous stare.

Blaine scrunches his face up in distaste. "Ugh, Screechy Sugar. Sweet girl, but that voice could peel paint off the wall."

"At least she sways in the background well," says Quinn, to no one in particular, flipping idly through one of Santana's celebrity gossip magazines. "Unlike Frankenteen."

A light bulb goes on in Rachel's head. She gestures, and Brittany leans down to hear the smaller girl whisper in her ear. A wide grin spreads across the dancer's face as she listens, and they nod emphatically at each other. Rachel hurriedly pours cups of coffee for the rest and sets two cups of tea to steep for herself and Quinn. She can barely contain her excitement.

Rachel serves the mugs of hot beverage, receiving grateful smiles from everyone at the table, while Brittany leans against the counter to watch her best friend work her magic. "Um, I couldn't help but overhear what you've been discussing, and I believe I may be able to assist you with your predicament."

Quinn's ears perk up at the sound of Rachel's voice. _This ought to be good._

"How so?" Blaine asks, and Tina and Mercedes join him in looking at her with curious expressions.

Smiling sweetly, Rachel places the sugar, milk and cream on the table, gesturing for the others to partake, then clears her throat to make her pitch.

"As I mentioned earlier, I am a vocal performance major at NYADA, and Brittany is a dance major there as well. We would be more than happy to offer our assistance with any and all vocal and dance issues your group is having. I myself have given many vocal lessons – although not professionally, of course – while Brittany put in many hours instructing youngsters at our local community center back home. I am confident that we can help your teammates to improve greatly, if your professor will allow us to do so."

Mercedes' eyes narrow as she regards Rachel with a look that's part admiration for the girl's sheer audacity, part indignation at the suggestion that their group is in dire need of some outsider's help. She raises her hand, palm out, in the universally understood "stop right there" gesture.

"Hold up. It's not like we don't have _any_ good dancers in the group," she protests. "Mike Chang, _that_ boy can dance with the best of 'em, and then some." Tina nods her head affirmatively. Blaine, on the other hand, looks at Rachel and Brittany with a thoughtful expression, as though he's assessing them, trying to discern the validity of the petite singer's claims.

"Sing something," he says simply. It's not a challenge - more of a "let me see if what I think is actually true before I say anything else" kind of request.

Rachel looks over at Brittany, who shrugs as though she's witnessed this kind of interaction between her friend and countless others before. Santana opens her mouth as if to say something, then shuts it immediately, realizing that she won't mind seeing the trio's reactions when they hear what Rachel can do. Yeah, the dwarf might be a little annoying, but she can sing like nobody Santana's ever heard.

Quinn pushes herself up and off the bean bag chair to stand and watch. A small smile quirks the corners of her lips upward. _This is going to be good._

All is suddenly quiet and still, until Rachel sips at her tea, clears her throat and introduces her go-to song, the one that's never failed her. The one that got her into NYADA on full scholarship. The one that's summed up her life's guiding philosophy since she was old enough to understand what the words meant.

"This song is from the classic musical _Funny Girl, _originally made famous by the greatest performer of all time, the one and only Ms. Barbara Streisand, in whose legendary footsteps I hope to one day follow. It's called _Don't Rain on My Parade, _and it goes like this..."

About three minutes later, silence reigns once more as Blaine, Tina and Mercedes struggle to find the words to respond to the performance they had just heard. Each looks at the other, completely at a loss, until finally, Mercedes claps her hands together and whoops out an exclamation that sums it all up. "_Damn, _girl." She shakes her head, smiling in delight. "You gotta teach me that song sometime."

Rachel beams, turns to catch Quinn's stare, winks at her. Blaine and Tina just sit there, wide-eyed and slack-jawed. Santana's shoulders tremble with barely suppressed laughter at the vacant looks of shock still on their faces.

Then Brittany whispers in her ear. "Santana, be nice. You looked just like that too, when you heard Rachel sing for the first time. And I have the pictures on my phone to prove it."

Santana looks up at the tall dancer, astonished to find that she actually feels somewhat...chastened by the gentle admonishment. But the gentle smile on Brittany's face lets her know that she's already forgiven for her transgression, and it warms her heart so much that she forgets to be offended.

Movement at the edge of her Brittany-clouded vision takes her out of the moment, and she watches as Rachel steps over to where Mercedes sits, still shaking her head. Mercedes' grin nearly matches the one Rachel's wearing, and in that moment, it's evident to everyone else in the room that these two very different young women now share an understanding of each other, one that will swiftly grow into a strong, lasting bond of friendship.

"I'm going to hug you now," Rachel says, and even as she speaks, her slender arms wrap themselves around the larger girl's shoulders. Mercedes' back stiffens in surprise at first, but she quickly returns the warm embrace.

She then swiftly hugs Tina and Blaine in succession, and afterwards, when she says, seriously, "I take it we have a deal, then?" Santana crumples her napkin into a ball and throws it at her.

* * *

Later, after the three Glee Club members have said their goodbyes and left, Quinn pulls Rachel down onto the couch beside her and kisses her, hard.

Dazed and breathless, feeling a blush as pink as roses warming her cheeks and a very pleasant heat blooming outward from somewhere in her midsection, Rachel asks, "Not that I minded, but what was _that _for?"

A sensation very much like happiness dances in Quinn's crystalline hazel eyes at the girl's adorably puzzled look, at the tousled wildness of her fine, shiny dark hair and the plumpness of her kiss-swollen lips. Her gaze is soft, yet deeply penetrating, as though she's trying to memorize every line and curve of Rachel's face.

"I don't know," Quinn answers, suddenly shy, directing her eyes downward to her hands, which have somehow latched onto Rachel's and drawn them into her lap. She bites her lip and forces her eyes back to Rachel's questioning expression. "I...I just know that I've been wanting to do that since we got back here. That it's _all _I've wanted to do. I can't explain it. You just...you make me _feel_ things, Rachel. Things I haven't been sure I'd ever be able to feel again, that I haven't felt since -" she hesitates; memories crowd the corners of her mind, ones she simply will _not _allow to taint this moment. She bats them away. She's fought too long, to hard, to get here, to this bright, shining moment, and nothing is going to darken it now.

"Never mind. I'm not thinking about the past anymore, because the present -" she raises Rachel's hands to her lips, kisses the tips of her small, delicate fingers. " - and I hope, maybe, the future, are so much better than I ever thought they could be. And that's because of you."

Internally, Rachel frowns, but she doesn't let that show on the outside, returning Quinn's trembling smile with a stronger, steadier one of her own. It's clear that someone, or something, hurt Quinn in the past, hurt her deeply. It's visible even through the happiness that's radiating from her, just beneath the surface of her soft smile and flawless skin. She's haunted by it, fought tooth and nail to live through whatever it is that caused this deep, deep pain, and no matter how well she's learned to mask it, Rachel can see it in the set of her jaw, the tension in her long, lovely neck. Quinn is a bird whose wings were broken once, and though they've healed, she's still not sure, even now, that she'll ever be able to fly again.

_Oh, Quinn, _she wants to say. _What __**happened**__ to you? Will you ever be able to tell me?_

Instead she sighs and runs the fingers of one hand through Quinn's perfect golden hair, caresses a gentle line along her jawline. "Kiss me again," she says, unable to keep the tremble from her voice as the words escape her ever so slightly parted lips, and Quinn leans forward to close the distance between their mouths, moaning softly when Rachel's lips part further and their tongues meet, become one.

* * *

They wake in a tangle of limbs some time later, disengaging with shy, slightly embarrassed smiles and bashful looks. Neither girl knows exactly when they'd changed out of their clothes and into sleep wear, or who had been holding whom when sleep had finally claimed them after talking and kissing all night; but they _do_ know that even though the couch wasn't really meant for two people to sleep on it – not comfortably, anyway – they'd each had the best night's sleep they could remember in some time. Quinn lets Rachel use the bathroom first, taking the time alone to reflect on how amazing kissing Rachel had been. Her lips and tongue are still tingling, her blood still thrumming slightly with the excitement of it. She knows that Rachel's figured out that something in her past has hurt her deeply, something she still can't really talk about, and marvels at how the girl had somehow instinctively known not to push her, choosing instead to let her express her feelings in a non-verbal way. That sort of thoughtful consideration has never been a feature in her life, and she feels profoundly grateful for Rachel's remarkable intuition regarding her fragile emotional equilibrium.

Santana, being the amazing best friend she is, has always tried to be patient with her, but it's not really in her nature. When Santana attempts to get Quinn to open up and talk about the events of her past, she inevitably gets frustrated and lashes out in anger when Quinn withdraws. It's not anyone's fault; it's just their natures. Santana, when she's pushed, directs her emotions outward, blasting at full force towards whatever unfortunate target happens to be available. But Quinn is just the opposite. When she feels like she's being pushed, she shuts down, draws herself inward, becomes silent and uncommunicative. It's like an endless feedback loop. Santana yells, Quinn pulls away, they both feel terrible about it for a couple of days, and then they apologize to each other before the cycle starts all over again. So as much as Santana has tried to help her - _has _helped her - Quinn has only been able to get so far in healing. Yet they both know that without Santana's insistence on not letting her slide, her refusal to let her take the easy way out, Quinn would likely not be here right now.

But Rachel...Rachel is different, so gentle and patient. Despite the fact that they've only been in each other's lives for a short time, Quinn feels safer with her than with anyone she's ever known before, even her best friend. (Not that she would ever tell Santana that.)

Rachel makes the world seem not so scary. Like it's a place in which she can actually live and move through without wondering when the next window will shatter, which wall will fall, which door will be ripped off its hinges. With Rachel, the shadows recede, and it's as though she feels the sun upon her skin again, for the first time in a very long time.

The smaller girl returns from the bathroom, her face washed, her teeth and hair brushed, and Quinn is so struck by her natural beauty that her breath catches in her throat for a second. Rachel catches the way Quinn's looking at her and ducks her head, blushing, trying to hide behind the curtain of her beautiful dark locks.

"What?" she asks. "Is my hair still a mess? I tried to brush it out, but maybe I should have just put it up in a pony tail or a bun or something."

Quinn hastily seeks to reassure her that there's nothing wrong with the way she looks. Far from it, in fact. "No, no – it looks great. Amazing, even."

Rachel's eyes widen, and her hands fly to the back of her head, instantly trying to smooth her hair out once again.. She's not used to receiving compliments like this. "Really? Because I generally have the worst bed head known to humankind, and it's so difficult to get everything back in place in the morning, and I usually can't do a thing with it until after I've showered, and..." Her voice trails off helplessly as Quinn chuckles at her.

Quinn can't help but smile at Rachel's flustered reaction. It's really too adorable for words.

"Rachel, _stop. _Please. It looks wonderful. _You _look wonderful, especially for –" reluctantly, she turns her eyes away from Rachel to glance at the clock on the cable box "- _ugh._ Six-thirty in the morning."

"This is early for you?" Rachel asks. Her genuinely puzzled expression only makes Quinn chuckle even more.

"On a _weekend?_ Yes. I mean, _I_ don't sleep all morning like Santana does, but I do like to stay in bed until around nine o'clock or so," Quinn replies, walking past Rachel to avail herself of the empty bathroom before an exceedingly grumpy Santana gets up and starts knocking at the door, demanding that it be vacated _now, or else!_

"Oh. This is my usual wake-up time on weekends," continues Rachel, speaking into the air. Unable to sit still now that she's awake, she decides to check out the available breakfast options in the refrigerator and freezer.

"You see, I allow myself an extra half-hour just because, but no more than that, because I have so much to do -" She checks the expiration date on each item as she pulls it out of the refrigerator. Orange juice. _Still good._ English muffins. _These too. _Yogurt. _Check. _Fruit. _These grapes look all right, but the peaches might be a little overripe._ "- and I feel as though if I sleep too much, or for too long, then I'll never get everything done, you know?"

Satisfied with the array of breakfast choices she's found, Rachel allows herself a smile for a job well done, then arranges them on the kitchen table before turning her attention to the task of finding glasses, plates, bowls and utensils so that the table can be properly set, humming softly to herself as she opens drawers and cupboards. She flits around the kitchen like a butterfly, her steps soft, her movements delicate.

Quinn comes out of the bathroom and is brought up short by the sight of Rachel dancing around the kitchen. It's simultaneously funny and beautiful, in a strange sort of way. Quinn finds that she doesn't have the heart to spoil the moment by coughing or clearing her throat, so she just watches in fascination. Rachel may not be the trained dancer that Brittany is, but there's still a graceful fluidity and balance to her movements just the same.

Quinn doesn't know whether to laugh, cry or hug the girl.

She hovers just out of Rachel's sight. It's almost more than she can take when the petite singer, in the midst of making pancakes, holds a spatula up to her mouth and begins to sing softly into it, as though the kitchen utensil is a microphone and the small kitchen space is her stage. How, Quinn wonders, is it possible that this smart, funny, beautiful, charming and amazingly talented girl just fell into her life out of nowhere? Where did she stumble upon this kind of good luck, after everything that's happened to her, all she's fought so hard to overcome? Quinn feels as though she's being rewarded by the universe at last, simply for not giving up all those times she thought about doing so.

Finally, she breaks down, laughing and crying at the same time, emitting a strange, soft sound like a cross between a sob and a happy sigh. Rachel, with her keen hearing, immediately stops singing, freezes in place; a small part of her mind is thankful that there are already enough pancakes.

"Quinn? Is – is that you? Are you all right? Where are you?"

Rachel's voice breaks the silence like a wave of concern, and Quinn wants to call out to her, say something, anything, to reassure Rachel that she's okay. She wants to say that there's nothing wrong – but the truth is, a lot has been wrong for a long time. Only now does she feel as though something in her life has started to go right. But her voice has deserted her. She can't find the words to tell the girl what she's feeling, to describe how her heart, which has been so empty for what seemed like forever, is suddenly full to bursting with emotions of a kind she's been sure she'd never be able to feel.

She can't speak, but she can move, and as soon as Rachel sees her emerge from where she'd been hidden, Quinn feels the smaller girl's arms being thrown around her, and all she can do is murmur "I'm sorry" into Rachel's hair over and over and over again. It feels like a confession, or maybe absolution, but they both know that Quinn's committed no sin - not then, not now.

* * *

When Brittany and Santana finally step into the kitchen, one bright and bubbly, the other silent and grumpy, they feel the charge of emotion in the air amid the smell of freshly made pancakes. Something, they can tell, has happened here; Rachel is standing at the table, Quinn sitting, the shorter girl softly running her fingers through the taller one's blonde tresses and whispering in her ear. Both are smiling, but Brittany can see that Rachel looks tired, which is strange because she _never _looks tired, no matter how little sleep she's actually gotten the previous night. And even through her own bleary eyes, it's clear to Santana that Quinn looks as though she's been shaken. She knows that look. It's the one Quinn always wears after she's fallen apart and been put back together.

Santana feels an odd stab of jealousy knife through her chest at the realization that until now, she's always been the one to put Quinn back together. But when Britt touches her shoulder and says gently, "They look perfect together, don't they?" Santana can only nod in agreement and admit, "Yeah. Yeah, they kinda do."

And just like that, the jealousy is gone, replaced with gladness for her friend, and even more for Brittany's presence. No one's ever been able to find the "off" switch for Santana's darker emotions like Brittany does. It's remarkable, the way just a touch or a word soothes her, calms her, brings her back to her better self. If Brittany hadn't been here, Santana muses to herself, she probably would have said something mean and hurtful, just to assuage her own momentary hurt, and probably ruined their entire day as a result.

Rachel's eyes meet Santana's, and understanding passes between them. Santana will always be Quinn's best friend, the sister of her soul, but Rachel is now the caretaker of Quinn's heart. They'll speak later of the challenge of keeping the girl intact, of just what it really means to have that awesome and sometimes difficult responsibility, but for now, they'll agree to keep silent about what's happened here.

Brittany, who's always had the gift of knowing just what needs to be said when the tension of a charged, silent moment needs to be gently broken, lets out an exaggerated _mmmm _and exclaims, "Rachel! You made your famous pancakes!"

The petite singer looks up and mouths _thank you _to Brittany, nods at Santana. "Yes, I did. I had the feeling today was going to be a very important day, with this special glee club meeting and everything, so I decided we would need to fuel ourselves up especially well to ensure that we can give it our best effort." She points at the set table and gestures at the two of them to sit. "There's coffee for you and Santana, and also orange juice, English muffins with your choice of butter or jelly, and some fruit, although regrettably I had to throw out the peaches I found in the refrigerator." She frowns in disappointment at the last; she'd really wanted one of those peaches.

With a final caress of Quinn's alabaster cheek, Rachel reluctantly steps away from her and returns to the counter, where Brittany is already stacking pancakes onto a plate. As the two best friends begin to happily chatter away, Santana slides into a chair and fixes Quinn with a penetrating stare, trying to assess her emotional state.

"You okay, Q? She...she didn't say, or do, anything to upset you, did she?" She reaches a hand across the table. Quinn takes it and gives it a firm squeeze, shakes her head _no, _emphatically. "Good. I mean, I didn't think so, not really, but still."

"Santana, I'm _fine_. Relax." Quinn ducks her head, unaccountably feeling a bit embarrassed at breaking down the way she had in front of Rachel. "I – I had a little _episode, _that's all. Rachel fixed it. She made it better." Stealing a glance over at the tiny girl, she smiles at the sight of Brittany holding the bottle of maple syrup above her head, making Rachel jump in a vain attempt to retrieve it from her.

"_Brittany!_" Rachel admonishes her syrup-stealing friend in a tone of playful exasperation, crossing her arms and lightly stamping her foot. "Breakfast is no time to play games! You don't want the pancakes to get _cold,_ do you?"

The tall dancer laughs merrily as she hands the bottle to Rachel, accepting the good-natured soft smack on the arm she gets as 'punishment'. It's a game they've played since forever, a morning ritual of countless sleepovers at each other's houses growing up. "Okay, okay. Come on, let's eat. Last one to finish pays the other's subway fare!"

Rachel laughs at Brittany's bubbly silliness. "That's not fair. You know I can't eat as much as you do," she says as they seat themselves at the table, Brittany placing the large plate of pancakes in the center of the table, an empty space surrounded by all the other breakfast items Rachel had arranged earlier. Quinn raises a questioning eyebrow at her, to which Rachel responds matter-of-factly, "I don't even like pancakes all that much. I'm more of an English muffin kind of girl."

Santana chuckles as she sips at her morning coffee. She doesn't even mind knowing that there are going to be a lot more noisy mornings like this from now on. It's worth it to see the adoring smile on Quinn's face as she watches Rachel and Brittany chatter animatedly like cartoon bees.

* * *

When they get to the choir room, there's a palpable sense of nervous excitement filling the air. Tina, Blaine and Mercedes jump off their chairs to greet Rachel and Brittany with enthusiastic hugs – Brittany even remembers not to squeeze them too hard this time – while the rest of the club members regard them with curious eyes and slightly wary expressions. Santana knows that the others have already been informed that there would be a couple of guests joining them, thanks most likely to Blaine, but she also knows that they're all just as protective of this sacred space as the trio that had visited the previous night. She watches as Rachel, Quinn and Brittany take seats among the group, then stands herself in the middle of the room to address the club.

"Okay, listen up, losers," Santana says, garnering the usual round of good-natured eye rolls and murmurs of _whatever._ "As you can see, we're being joined by a couple of special guests today. Warbler over there -" She points to Blaine, who's seated between Tina and Mercedes in the back row along with Rachel and Brittany. "- has probably already told you their names, but I'ma going to tell you again, 'cause you need to know and respect them. You know my best friend and roomie, Quinn. The cute li'l hobbit with the big eyes is Rachel Berry, and the tall drink of blonde next to her is Brittany S. Pierce." Santana takes a moment to enjoy the insulted look on Rachel's face, and the pleased smile on Brittany's before continuing. "They both go to NYADA, which is not too far from here, and if you don't know, it's one of the best performing arts schools in the freakin' world. Berry – mind if I call you Berry? Don't care. Berry is a vocal performance major there, and Brittany is a dance major. Now, since they're way better at singing and dancing than most of us here – myself excluded, of course – and since Professor C has probably called this ridiculously early and unheard of weekend meeting because of the deficiencies in those areas displayed, again, by some of us in this room, Rachel and Brittany have graciously volunteered their services today to help you all out."

An explosion of voices follows, just as Santana had predicted it would when they were riding the train to get here. After a couple of minutes, the cacophony dies down, and Santana goes on as if nothing had happened.

"As I was saying – Rachel and Brittany are here to _help._ They are taking time out of their own busy day to do this, without asking for anything in return except your respect and undivided attention. Do _not _make things difficult for them at any point, or I _will _have to cut you with one of the razor blades I keep in my hair. You get me?" Her glare emphasizes the point: mess with _them, _and you're messing with _her. _And _no one_ wants to mess with Santana Lopez.

Satisfied that everyone gets the message, Santana beckons for Rachel and Brittany to join her. Quinn plants a kiss on Rachel's cheek, causing the smaller girl to blush as Quinn had hoped she would. She can't help but chuckle a little as she watches Rachel follow Brittany to the center of the room, not caring at all about the puzzled looks she gets from Tina and Mercedes.

Rachel takes Brittany's hand and squeezes it, then lets it go. The adrenaline kicks in as it always does when she's facing an audience, all those eyes focused upon her, waiting expectantly. Brittany's expression is calm and serene, as placid as a still pond. She turns to Rachel and nods, signaling her to begin.

"Hello, everyone. I'm Rachel Berry, as you know, and today I'm -"

The classroom door opens, and a tall, statuesque brunette woman walks in with an air of undeniable authority. In a split-second, she takes in everything and everyone around her, and when she hears Rachel's name, she gasps, and the well-rehearsed greeting with which she was about to greet her students dies in her throat.

Rachel frowns at the interruption, but when she sees the woman's face, a sudden memory crowds every other thought from her mind. It's a vague, hazy memory, cloudy with the gauzy layers of time wrapped around it, but somehow, she realizes that she _knows _this woman. It's _impossible_, completely impossible, and yet – _and yet..._

"Oh, my God," she hears the woman say, and the voice causes the world to spin around her. Time slows, then speeds up, then slows again. "It's _you."_

She's only dimly aware of Brittany shouting her name, of the light leaving the room and plunging her into darkness, as she falls, not feeling it when she hits the floor.

* * *

**A/N: I know, it's been way, way, WAY too long since this story was last updated. I haven't forgotten it, though, as you can see; just felt the creative muse speaking more strongly to my newer stories. However, I do have some exciting things planned for this one going forward, so you can definitely expect more updates, periodically, going forward. Thanks to everyone who's read, followed and / or favorited this story. Please let me know how you like this chapter in a review or a PM - I love hearing from you! :^)**


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